Against my better judgement!
by Kaiserdrache
Summary: Who killed 172 muggles in the village of Bumbarton? And why is an assassin trying to kill Harry? Who is his mysterious stalker? But the main question is: Can Harry Potter fall in love with a girl from Slytherin house? Against his better judgement?
1. Introduction

Introduction

Here we have another story about what could happen after book seven is finished and our main heroes begin a new life. I will totally ignore „19 years later" as I don't like that chapter at all. Here in the main introduction, I'm going to explain what you can expect of „Against my better judgement".

Usually the short informations given in the stories' overview aren't by far enough to give the reader a hint about what to expect, so if you are reading this, you're about to get some further informations about my story so that you can decide whether it's worth your time to read or not.

"Against my better judgement" starts three years after Lord Voldemort was finished by Harry in the great hall of Hogwarts. Harry afterwards emigrated to the United States as he couldn't stand the wizarding worlds behaviour any more. One time being the nations scapegoat, the next moment their hero proved to be too much for him. Hermione emigrated too, but in her case it's Australia where she found her parents and began university as her parents couldn't afford to go back to Great Britain. Ron wanted to start auror training but instead decided to work for George. Both are quite successful but are far from being happy.

So, you may ask yourself now what you can expect when it comes to the main plot, pairings, action, fluff and all the other stuff that makes the Harry Potter Universe so wonderful. Well, lets take a closer look at what will happen to our protagonists:

The story: Yes, I have one! (Great so far, right?) The main plot revolves around some mysterious events after Harry has returned to England. I'm not going into detail now as that would ruin the eagerness, but something will happen that drastically influences the wizarding world and (as usual) Harry needs to save the day.

Main protagonists:

Harry: We will see him during his final year at Stanford University where he is practically an outcast. Yes, I know, normally in these kind of stories he's very happy and his main problem is the question whether he'll go back to his motherland, but not here. Not too much details now, but he has far greater problems. I will pair him with Daphne Greengrass although according to the books this is quite an extraordinary choice. My reason: After school everybody goes his own way and everybody changes. That happens with everybody and I see no reason why Harry Potter should be different. Furthermore, neither Harry nor Daphne will stick to the usual Gryffindor or Slytherin traits. Yes, some things never change but that doesn't mean that everything stays as it always was.

Hermione: She is and will still be the know-it-all, but that wouldn't suit her at all. I determined that she never had enough time to deal with her teenage issues, so that will be a great part of her story. Even more interesting could be that her memory charm on her parents had far more consequences than she had thought of. So, dealing with her (not so happy) parents will be another part of her story. My intention is to pair her of with another female character, so you will probably encounter some femslash along the way. Her designated partner will probably be some new character whereas I keep the option to go for someone already mentioned in the original books. No idea so far.

Ron: Has never really mourned for his brother Fred who died in the final battle. His dream was always to survive the war, to play for the Chudley Cannons and to marry Hermione Granger. Part A of his wishes came true, but at a high price. The second part is still a secret wish, but one that will probably never come true. Ron hasn't noticed yet that his skills for business are far greater than his goalkeeping skills, although Gringotts could tell him else. Maybe it is high time to be satisfied with what he has... His last wish, a marriage with Hermione, will not happen! I have no idea which idiot came up with the idea of Hr/R, but in MY opinion that would never have happened.

Ginny: With the new found wealth of her parents, Ginny has become what the muggle world would call a party girl. Sex, drugs and Rock'n Roll have poisoned her mind but there is still a small sparkle of the schoolgirl in her that has a huge crush on a boy with sprinkling green eyes. What she needs is someone to take her hand and love her for who she is and not for who she wants to be. Will probably be paired with Neville, nothing too surprising here, but not before she gets some serious bashing. Once again, as this is only a little side plot I keep the option open to pair her up with someone else.

The Malfoys: Yes, they are still out there and as can be expected they have some trouble dealing with the situation at hand. Lucius political power base is gone, Narcissas world of social entertainment has collapsed and Draco had no idea what to do with himself before he decided to try something totally new. Seeing that I like all three characters, my readers will spend some time with them. Although they will neither be the goody two shoes as in other stories nor the evil bastards they usually are. Prepare for a very, very unusual pairing for Draco.

McGonagall, Arthur & Molly, Seamus, Luna, Neville et al.: They will make appearances, of course. In how far they will have an impact on the story is actually uncertain, but it is likely that at least one of them will raise in status to became a semi-protagonist.

Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters: Are either dead, captured or on the run. Nevertheless, they will show up in one form or another. Be prepared for some deadly fighting!

Some words to the characteristics of "Against my better judgement": First of all, I'm not a native english speaker so I'll do my best to use my rusty school english to give you something you really want to read. I apologize in advance if I write total nonsense. Second, and that is one of the most important things to mention – I'm an adult with over thirty years of age and my intention is to write an adult story. So, to be more precise, you can expect very cruel and bloody parts of the story, you'll encounter explicit parts with hot sex and last but not least you can expect some serious romance, bashing, action and eventually some fluff. Well, certainly some fluff.

OooOOOooo

**Update 22/4/2011**

Maybe some people have recognized that I reposted that story and I would like to point out my reasons. First of all I had two unfinished stories on ., the first one being a german one, the second being AMBJ. Around christmas last year came the point where I was so overwhelmed by the work of writing that I decided to drop both stories. Now, four months later, my wife has convinced me to finish at least one. I opted for this one. But I will probably need some help because I cannot solve all language based issues on my own. And because of this:

**I am looking for a beta reader!**

Your profile: 25 – 45 years old, native english speaker from the UK, skilled with patience ;) Not someone new to fanfic, open-minded to adult themes. Open Office necessary as I don't like it to change text formats too often. Click "profile" and "Send message" if you are interested.

Update frequency: That was a problem in the past and I'm willing to admit it. My new timetable leaves me enough writing time for one, maybe two chapters per month if I get a decent beta.

Last, but not least – the legal mumbo jumbo:

_I don't own Harry Potter or any other characters from J.K. Rowlings books. In fact, I own nothing in this story except for the small parts of my own invention. Everything that could be claimed as property by JKR is hers and hers only. _


	2. A letter from the past

Chapter I – A letter from the past

Harry Potter sat in his small study, his chin settled onto the palms of his hands and looked out of the window. The weather outside matched his mood perfectly as it was heavily raining. Thick drops of water splashed against his window and made a noise that resembled him of the sound of a machine guns from cheap black and white movies. For two days straight it had not stopped raining but Harry had hoped that on his birthday the sun would shine again. In fact, he hoped that the sun would shine for him in more than one sense. But his dreams had been shattered as usual. In the early morning Hermione had called him on his cell phone and congratulated him on his 21st birthday. And that was it. Nobody else had called, sent an owl or a simple muggle letter. No cards, no wishes, simply nothing. Not that he really had expected something like this. Back home in Britain only Neville knew how to contact him in case of emergencies. Gringotts also had a possible way of contacting him but of course they wouldn't do so for non-business reasons. The last person being able to contact him was headmistress McGonagall, but Harry doubted that she had the time for birthday wishes now that the new school year was coming. And Fawkes was by far not his old self. The bird seemed to have aged a lot and his settling down with the new mistress of Hogwarts was probably just a cosy way to spent his own retirement. So, in a nutshell, Fawkes wouldn't flash over the ocean just to pass some nice pleasantries.

What really annoyed him was the fact that none of his new "friends" as he chose to call them had wished him a nice birthday. Neither the universities football team nor the quadpot players from the Santa Clara Falcons where he played some games for fun had thought of him. But, if he was honest with himself, he shouldn't have expected something like this. He had tried his best to make some acquaintances and his worst to make some real friends. Harry Potter was nothing more than someone you knew from the campus, but not someone you would invite for beer and pretzels into your home. His image was carefully built during the three years he had stayed at Stanford. He was the Nerd, the one who was the first in the morning to come and the last who left in the evening. That had of course allowed him to solve his course work in record time, but it did nothing to his reputation as someone you really liked. His only way of interacting with other students was the amateur football team where he kept himself in shape and the formal study groups assigned by his professors. As he didn't have a job to finance his time at university there was a great chance to built up a social network, but he never did.

He never regretted his decision to study fast and hard. At the end of the year he would become the first British student ever to complete the SMTP (Stanford Magical Teaching Program), an obscure branch of magical education taught by a semi-senile Squib. If he thought back to his Hogwarts days where his greatest wish was to become an auror he could only laugh. More dark wizards to hunt? Surely not. Teaching was his greatest skill as he had found out during his DA time. Okay, to be honest it had been Hermione who had to bang his head on the fact itself, but once he realised what she said it all made sense. So he had went straight to McGonagall and had asked her for the Defence against the Dark Arts teaching post. The old Scottish lady had smiled at him and told him in sweet, but not uncertain words that the board of governors would only accept someone who had an academic title as a teacher. When Harry pointed out that most of the teachers Dumbledore had hired hadn't had a title she had only laughed and mumbled something along the line of "the old codger stood far above the board and his fools...".

So Harry had taken all the necessary steps to become a full fledged magical teacher. Once his decision was made he thought that it would be easy for him as he still was one of the most powerful wizards of his time. His repertoire of spells wasn't so great as Hermione's, but he still had a lot of knowledge that other young adults of his age didn't have. Oh, he couldn't have been more wrong. Professor Jakublacz had told him during the first lesson that he knew who he was and that neither his fame, nor his power nor his knowledge of spells would matter at all for his course. It was all about didactics and that was something that Harry only knew by instinct. Instinct is nice and well, but certainly not good enough to get a grade from Stanford. So Harry had worked day and night to solve the riddles of academic teaching methods. And he excelled – he made the best lesson plans, worked out the best teaching forms and even integrated a great part of muggle science into his lessons. And that was another reason why most of his co-students couldn't stand him. Compared to him there simply was no number two or three student. It was him and then a void of nothing before the next best student would come.

So, what did he get for all his work? Being alone on his 21st birthday with nothing more than a single candle he had lit himself and some cookies from the supermarket. At least had Hermione assured him that she had sent a package for him containing his birthday present. Not bad but far from being the birthday he had always wished for. He missed Molly Weasley and her birthday parties at the Burrow but he had a feeling that he would never enjoy this luxury again as his parting from the Weasleys had been far from good. After the final battle Molly half expected him to ask Ginny to marry him and that was something that never occurred to him. He wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to reinstate his relationship with the only Weasley daughter. And so he had told her in very clear words that all he wanted were some silent years without someone demanding something from him. Of course that was the worst thing he could have said, but in his naiveté he had no idea how to break this fact to Ginny more diplomatically. This, combined with the fact that he opted to leave England had coursed a great rift between him and the Weasleys. But what did he really care? This was the first time in his life that he had chosen to do something for himself and that was the one decision he never questioned. So, as a matter of fact, the Weasleys ignored him although they knew that there was a possibility to contact him via Hermione.

Deep in thought and self-pity he realized too late that someone was knocking on his water stained window. Surprised he looked up and what he saw scared him completely. On his window sill sat the strangest bird he had ever seen. First he thought that it was only a very strange owl, but that impression was wrong. The bird who tapped his beak against his window was literally nothing more than bones and tendons. The white skull stood in stark contrast to the black and rainy background and the tiny claws looked razor-sharp. Looking closer Harry realized that this 'bird' was definitely not an owl, but more of a raven. Carefully he drew his holly and phoenix feather wand from the back pocket of his jeans and went closer to the strange bird who still knocked impatiently his beak against the window as if he wanted to say that the stupid human on the other side should hurry more. Harry pointed his wand at the bird just in case the undead raven meant serious business and opened the window very slowly. The bird reacted instantly and jumped into Harrys room where he stretched his bones and took flight. That alone should have been impossible as the creature didn't have real wings, but furthermore, after a couple of round around the small room, it exploded in a shower of tiny bone splitters which formed a new item in mid-air. Harry couldn't believe his eyes – this was some of the most advanced magic he had ever seen. An undead bird alone was so strange that he couldn't think of anyone capable of such dark magic but the transformation afterwards was even more impressive. He doubted that even a transfiguration mistress as McGonagall would be capable of such a feat.

He stepped closer to the middle of the room where the remnants of the raven had formed a new item – a simple white letter addressed to 'Harry Potter, to be delivered on his 21st birthday'. He turned the letter around around to look for an addresser but found the backside bare and empty. He needed a moment to clear his mind and was once again thankful for the fact that he had in recent years developed some basic occlumency shields. It had taken him weeks to get even the basics right but he found that it had been worth the effort as he was now able to focus his concentration much faster than before.

Even years later he still had to chuckle when he remembered the moment he opened the letter and read it's content. It was far stranger than anything that had ever happened to a young man called Harry Potter and with his history that was remarkable in his own right. It read:

_Harry Potter,_

_I'm writing this on the evening before our final battle will probably occur. We both know that in the end it will come down to only the two of us and I'm fairly sure that tomorrow evening I will stand over your dead body laughing about the boy who supposedly lived. Well, this is a calming thought but just in case that things turn out against me I want you to know some things which could be useful for you in the future._

_First of all, let me say that despite my taunting you always were a worthy opponent. I was never sure that I would triumph in the end although it should be clear that the blood of the noble Salathar Slytherin is far stronger than yours. But I'm drifting away. By now you probably know already what I did to ensure eternal life or to be more precise you have discovered a way to once again turn me mortal. Of course neither you nor the old fool Dumbledore ever realized how many insurances I have – and that's the reason why I'll live to tell the tale. Well, let me tell you some things to let you know why I did what I did. _

_You know, I was once a young man like yourself. In fact, as you probably already know, I'm a born half-blood. My father was a dirty muggle who dropped my mother like some toy he could play with as he liked. Not that it would matter for me, of course, the blood of Slytherin in my veins ensures that I'm a nobleman by birth, but technically I myself am a mudblood. Well, as fascinating as that might be that is only part of the reason I want you to read these lines. _

_Let me tell you a short story of a young man called Tom Riddle like you were never told before. In my youth I was raised in an orphanage in London. Beatings, starving and harsh punishments were my day-to-day life and usually as I was a little kid I was on the receiving end. You know, once you realise how life is, you understand that there is only one simple little rule you have to follow. Rule or be ruled by others. Being magical I had the means to turn the tides and bully the bullies. Maybe someone could say that this was an unfair advantage I had, but so where the muscles of kids who were eight to nine years older than me. I simply ensured that nobody would do me more harm with all weapons at my disposal. When Dumbledore came and told me that I'm a wizard and that there was a whole world of magical beings where I belonged I was so happy like I had never been before. Of course, I still was a little bit sceptical, but nevertheless I enjoyed the thought of being part of a magical community. But that turned out to be more of a nightmare than everything I learned at the orphanage._

_Being part of the noble house of Slytherin isn't easy when you have no idea how the magical community works. I was nothing, I was less than the dirt on the purebloods shoes or at least that was what these bigots wanted me to believe. You see, I had nothing to show off. I couldn't name my heritage, I hadn't any money to spoil and far worse, I had nobody to call a friend. That of course all changed when I once again applied the same methods as in the orphanage. I used the might of the dark arts to rule the house instead of being ruled. I crushed them, I turned them into lackeys, I made them practically my slaves and they all cowered at my feet. By now you probably think that this was the exact wrong way and I'm sure that Dumbledore would agree with you. Yes, maybe. But it worked – for the first time in my life I could do what I wanted to do without anybody telling me how to approach things. All these so called 'purebloods' with their ancestral heritages were willing to serve me. They are fools! They are sheep like the rest of the magical community. And now we reach the point why I wrote this letter._

_If you, by some mysterious wonder, defeated me and got this letter, you should know the following. __The magical community is still so far in the past that they have no idea what the world looks like. Although nobody knows, I am fairly good informed how muggle life looks like and what they are __capable of. My lackeys still think that we could conquer them should the need arise, but of course __they are wrong as always. So, if anybody tells you that my main target is to control wizards and muggles alike, he's wrong, completely wrong. We have around 3 million wizards and witches around the world compared to 6 billion muggles and squibs. That is a battle that cannot be won and I rarely do things that are not possible. Furthermore, muggles have developed far beyond everything most wizards can imagine. You see Harry, wizards still live in the Victorian age and have never progressed into the third millennium like muggles have. There is a lesson to be learned here Harry – wizards and witches alike look for leaders. They don't really care for who the leader is, may he be dark as I am or a leader of the light like Dumbledore was. Hell, they even looked up to the fool moron Fudge._

_So, just in case I don't survive the next 24 hours I want you to consider these two facts when dealing with the magical community. YOU have everything to take the leadership and although I know that you probably don't desire it your hand may be forced to take it. Obviously neither my dark nor Dumbledores light approach has worked so maybe it is high time for a middle way. Use force whenever necessary and compassion whenever possible (although I still doubt that curious designs like love or compassion work...). For the moment just keep all this in mind, there may come a situation when you might need this knowledge. I know that you probably don't trust me and you have every reason to, but believe me that I know far more from life than you (for the moment). Experience comes with age Harry and you are still young and idealistic. That is all nice and neat and of course that is how it should be, but for the future consider to think of the guy who challenged you and whose plots and plans worked more than one time. You probably will never consider me a mentor like Albus was, but I can assure you that there is wisdom in my words. _

_Take good care of you Harry._

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Lord Voldemort_

_Post scriptum: Oh, I nearly forgot. Of course I got you a birthday present, a spell practically forgotten. Move your wand three times counter-clockwise and finish the wand movement with an reversed cross while stating: Semimortuus Corvus. That will summon an undead raven like the one who delivered this letter. They are highly intelligent and make the best messengers you can think of. They are lightning fast, not affected by weather or other circumstances, cannot be intercepted and capable of timed deliveries like the one you just witnessed. They are even capable of waiting years and decades to deliver their letters. _

Harry stared at the letter before him. He didn't feel the creeping cold that came into his room because he had left the window open. He couldn't believe it – he got a birthday letter from Lord Voldemort.


	3. Silent memories

Chapter 2 – Silent Memories

It was one of these moments were you have no idea what to do with yourself. Just two hours ago all Harry could think of was his degree dissertation and now he was sitting in an overstuffed armchair reading the letter from Lord Voldemort again and again. It was completely unbelievable! Had that dark bastard really considered loosing the final battle and prepared his final message? It seemed so, but if the evidence wouldn't have been in his lap, Harry never would have believed so. What was it with Voldemort and to an lesser degree, Dumbledore? Did these guys really have backup plans and backup-backup plans for everything? "It's insane", he thought. Planning and calculating every possible outcome, every possible event should be impossible, but nevertheless both men had done so.

The fingers of his left hand played absent-minded with his short beard under his chin, while his other hand held Voldemorts letter tightly. Harry Potter was clueless. No matter how often he read the lines, they seemed to make a lot of sense and that was alarming. Should he, or better could he really take an advice from the darkest being that had ever wandered on earth? It was really complicated as he could easily identify himself with Tom Riddles situation. He knew where the dark lord was coming from and he could understand how such a life was able to change your priorities. It was so easy to feel pity with the young boy who had forced his will on countless victims, just because he felt unjustly treated, but on the other hand it didn't justify all the deeds of evil Tom had done over the years. But Harry knew something else – that some part of the letter, namely the part concerning the magical community, could indeed have been written by his former mentor Albus Dumbledore. And if he had, it would have been much easier to accept the content. Sure, the former headmaster would have chosen other words and would have beaten more around the bush instead of being explicit, but the content wouldn't have changed. Definitely not.

Harry was still well informed about the situation in England as it was clear for him that he wanted to go back to his home country when his studies in Stanford were finished. And what he heard and read wasn't really likeable. Directly after the war, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been installed as acting minister of magic, but only nine months later regular votes were called. Shacklebolt, who couldn't afford a costly election campaign had lost to all other three contenders with only 3 percent of all votes. A little bit better was Madame Bones who made it to eleven percent, but even she was by no means a real contender for the two heavyweights Greyson and Woodthorpe. Albert Greyson, second Earl of Godricstone, was a successful potions master who owned a chain of apothecaries around Europe. His election campaign based on spending money, more money and even more money. He organized free carnivals with free rides, free food and lots of amusement for the masses who were more than willing to spend some time relaxing after the war. He bought speech time on the wizarding wireless network and had pamphlets delivered to each household by the owl post. In other words, he had invested a lot of money to gain political power and he had been successful. His main competitor, Edgar Woodthorpe, had done the same in principal, but his election campaign was crushed to pieces by an article in the Daily Prophet that named his wife Claire as an former death eater responsible for killing two dozen muggle children during the war. That of course was nonsense, but it was enough of a smearing campaign to secure the victory for Albert Greyson who won with 57 percent of all votes.

And so England had yet another minister of magic who only enjoyed the finer aspects of the job. Yes, he was rebuilding the magical community, that was undoubted. But the way he did it, was not expected by anyone. His first action had been to announce that he would upgrade St. Mungos and indeed he had done so. The magical hospital now had 200 additional beds, more healers and a couple of specialists from around the world. What Greyson didn't tell the public beforehand was the small and little fact, that the hospital was no longer free of charge for everyone. They had to pay for the services offered and their fees were really expensive. His next step was even more worse. He announced that the ministry would build two more schools for the magical children in great Britain so that the classes in general would be smaller and the education better. Once again, the magical community was cheated. After both schools were erected, fees for Hogwarts students were more than tripled making it the most expensive school in the world. Certainly both newer schools were free of charge, but they were far from the Hogwarts standard. Both weren't boarding schools and both only offered the minimum course work, namely transfigurations, charms, potions and defence against the dark arts. School lunch was optional and had to be payed separately.

In a nutshell, everything the new minister had done so far was feeding his own purse. Be it the apothecary in St. Mungos, be it his own company who delivered the food for the two new schools or the cleaning services company that worked for the ministry, they were all owned by Albert Greyson. Harry knew that this was far from right but things could have been much worse. At least Greyson was neither dark nor a pureblood so humanity was once again on the rise. Not that life for the average English witch or wizard had gotten better, but still it wasn't an atmosphere of death and that should count for something. But nevertheless Harry somehow doubted that he would take any advice from Voldemort to heart. Yes, Tom had some points, no question, but his conclusion was by no means acceptable. First of all, Harry didn't have any intention to go for the power and second, even if he were forced to do so he wouldn't use Toms methods.

Harry decided that these were thoughts for later and deposited Voldemorts letter into his old school trunk that still served him well as an deposit box for special items. Like always when he opened the trunk he did take a closer look at the accumulated items, his invisibility cloak, Sirius mirror and some other memories like the diary from his second year or Snapes potions book or Dracos old wand. He had offered to return it to the young Slytherin, but astonishingly Draco had refused. Thinking of Draco, Harry felt an unbelievable pride. The young Slytherin had done what nobody had expected him to do and lived now among the Muggles. After the war had ended it turned out that Lucius Malfoy was a broken man and Draco finally freed himself of his fathers influence. He had a small fortune at his disposal, courtesy of his grandfather Abraxas and decided to study chemistry at the university of Tübingen alongside potions at the magical counterpart. Armed with nothing more than his sharp wit and an overflowing muggle account Draco had entered his own and personal adventure. He was in close contact with Hermione Granger in Australia that being the reason why Harry was so well informed about his whereabouts. It had cost Draco quite an effort to overcome his prejudices and approach Hermione to seek her knowledge regarding everything Muggle. In the end Draco had admitted to her that studying chemistry had been Snapes idea who had done the same before becoming a potions master. Naturally Hermione was not happy with the thought that she should be the one to help Malfoy, but she had done so nevertheless.

Harry chuckled silently and took another sip from his cup with black coffee. Who would have guessed that things would turn out the way they had in the end? Harry studying in Stanford, Hermione in Australia and Draco in Germany? Probably no one. He took another cookie and thought back to all his former school comrades. Neville – faithful Neville worked as an apprentice for the Patil family who where big in the potions ingredients business. Although Harry had no detailed informations about Neville he knew that he had been happy about the chance to work in the field of herbology. Luna Lovegood turned out to be even more of an adventurer than Harry, Hermione or Draco. She was with someone called Rolf Scamander hunting down fantastical beasts nobody had ever heard of. During these voyages she travelled around the world, to countries Harry couldn't even pin down on a map. But to be honest – who had ever heard of Waziristan? Then there were people who were no surprise at all. Ron worked with George at WWW as he had refused to study any more after Hogwarts. Harry didn't like thinking of the youngest Weasley son as they had parted in anger. Ron seemed to believe that it was a given fact that he and Harry would together join the aurors in the DMLE, but Harry had neglected that offer as he had enough of dark wizards for a lifetime. Even worse, Harry had sold Grimmauldplace so that Ron had to look for his own flat instead of living together with Harry for free. But all that wouldn't have been enough to create a long term brawl between those two friends. It was the fact that Hermione had insisted to stay in Australia to study classic English literature and advanced master transfigurations and Harry had supported her. Ron had been royally pissed when he heard that his girlfriend wouldn't stay with him to start a family. And so it came that Ron and Harry hadn't spoken a single word in nearly two and a half years. Then there was his ex-girlfriend Ginny who was even more pissed than Ron. Practically twelve hours after the final battle she had appeared in his dormitory in Hogwarts in nothing more than an see-through negligee ready to renew their relationship with a spontaneous shag. When Harry had told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn't ready for either sex or a relationship Ginny had thrown a fit that matched her mothers best. Her best argument had been that "Harry was hers" and when he had answered that he was a person and not a property she had stormed out the dormitory. Since then he hadn't heard anything personal of her. Yes, he knew that she had a place as a reserve chaser for the Harpies, but nothing more.

Harry went to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee and some noodles out of the microwave. He noticed that he still had to do the dishes, but that was something that he noticed every day. He simply was too lazy in the household department, maybe because he had to do it every day growing up with the bloody Dursleys. Oh yes – the Dursleys. They were still alive and as annoying as ever. Well, at least some of them were. Vernon had died last October when he had an coronary attack resulting from too much fat during his lifetime. Petunia and Dudley, now very well off after Vernons life insurance had paid chose to begin something new and they were really successful. His aunt now worked for the Sun, writing articles about proper garden management and behaviour in the upper-class. Harry still wondered how someone could write about something they had never done for themselves in their life, but that didn't change the fact that her columns was quite successful. Dudley on the other hand, had devoted his life to an project called "Boxing for Kids" where young people with problematic social backgrounds had to the chance to vent their frustration in the boxing ring. In Harrys eyes that was still astonishing. Dudley had never been the social type and somehow he doubted that a job as an semi-professional street worker was well paid. But who was he to care? At least he would never have to deal with these two miscreants at all and that meant a lot in his book. Well, occasionally he would get a letter from them, but he never spent the time to read them. Usually he opened them, read the first two words ("Dear Harry") and threw them in the bin. As if he had ever been something as an "dear" for his aunt! Such cheek! And so, everytime he got a letter starting with this lie he would throw them away – with joy.

Deep in thought Harry went for the radiator and put it to maximum level. It was cold in his flat and he was convinced that spending nearly three hours deep in thought were more than enough for one day. He had only three days left before his professor wanted his degree dissertation and it was already after midnight. So, the coming days would be filled with work if he ever wanted to finish university. Moaning, he opted for a quick shower before brushing his teeth and ending a long day.


	4. Coming home

Chapter III – Coming Home

It took Harry only seconds to realize that he was once back in good old England. His air plane had landed at Heathrow Airport on the morning of December the 18th and once his feet touched english soil again he was greeted with typical winter weather. Thick rain drops splashed against the street ground and he was tempted to use a waterproof charm, but instead opted for buying a cheap umbrella in one of the souvenir shops at the airport. The pink umbrella clashed horribly with his dark blue suite and cloak, but at least it kept him dry until he reached a taxi. He ordered the cab driver to bring him to the Sheraton Hotel and leaned back against the too soft seat while watching the scenery.

It took him nearly half an hour to reach his destination and after he had paid the taxi driver he underwent a very fast check-in at the Sheraton. As he had already booked the hotel from the States via internet there was not much left to do except for tipping the chambermaid. Once he had settled in and turned on the television for his first dose of english muggle news for nearly three years, he draw his wand and unshrunk his luggage. He mused what to do next as there were only three things left to do for him today. He could either go for the hotels restaurant and have a fast breakfast or he could opt for a nice and neat shower followed by a nap or he could do the sensible thing and call Hermione in Australia to tell her that he had safely arrived back home. Grudgingly he searched the pockets of his discarded cloak for his cell phone, already deciding that he would keep the call as short as possible, because a warm shower seemed so much more appreciating.

He had to wait some seconds until he heard Hermiones voice.

"Yes, hello?"

"Hermione? It's me, Harry", he answered.

"Harry! So nice to hear from you! Have you safely made your way back to England? Was your plane on schedule? How is the weather?", came the rapid fire questions from his best and oldest friend.

"Keep cool Hermione, everything was fine. Had some trouble with the weather, but nothing serious. It's heavily raining here, but what do you expect?"

"Well Harry, if you don't like it, just hop onto the next plane and visit me here. We could walk down to the beach and enjoy an ice cream. How does a temperature of 29 degrees sound to you?"

Harry could practically hear her giggling at the thought of him caught with the horrible weather while she was probably wearing the shortest skirt she had in her wardrobe.

"I'll speak to you in six months dear, by then the tides should have turned around", he smiled into the cell phone.

"Too true Harry, too true", she answered him. "Do you already know what is next on your agenda?"

"You mean except a hot shower and something to eat? Well, I'll need to stop by Gringotts during the next days to check my properties for something to live in as well as a short trip to Barclays for some informations about my non-magical investments. Then I plan to visit McGonagall and afterwards a trip to the ministry to renew my apparation license. And last, but not least, I plan to visit some friends, mainly Neville and if I can catch her – Luna."

"That sounds very nice Harry, I wish I could do the same, but I probably will be caught here for another year, maybe two before I can even think of coming back to England."

"So long Hermione? Didn't you say that it would be possible to return sooner?"

He heard her sigh although she was literally thousands of miles away.

"I'm sorry Harry, but things aren't very positive right now."

"What happened Hermione? Can I help?"

"I'm sure you could, but I would decline your help and you know it", she said. "I can only study half-time at the moment as my parents need my help in their dentist practice and I need to work for my living. Even worse, it turned out that my last semester assignment didn't fulfil my professors standards and I have to do it again."

"A professor rejected your assignment? You don't want me to believe that, do you?", he asked.

"Well, I've studied the animagus transformations for the last semester and wrote an first class essay about the principles. My professor, Dr. Stone, said it was by far one of the best theoretical writings he ever read about the subject, but without me being able to at least perform the first practical steps of becoming an animagus, it's completely worthless. So, I'm stuck with the topic for at least another half a year until I manage to complete the visualization process to the point where I know what kind of animal I would be."

Harry shuddered. He himself had thought of becoming an animagus, but after his first steps into the material he had opted against it. Too much work, too complicated. So he could understand her perfectly. "Could Minerva be of any help, Hermione? I could contact her."

"I've already contacted her myself Harry. And she helped a lot. But in a nutshell she said that it could take between days and decades to complete the first steps depending on your inherent magical ability for personal transformations. Magical power or skill doesn't help you at all, either you have the instincts to transform or you haven't. And if the later is the case you need years of practice to overcome the first obstacles in the process. In short – I have to work it out myself."

"Holy shit, Hermione. That doesn't sound too good. Is everything else at least in order? Or do you suffer from more problems?"

"Only the usual ones Harry that you already know of, nothing special", she sighed.

"Hermione, please listen to me. Please. If you have money issues, I can help out, you know I would and it wouldn't harm me."

"No, Harry. Thanks for the offer, once again. But it was me who brought my parents into their current situation and it will be me who will solve the problems. Not you. Although I'm very grateful for your offer and if things turn out to be unsolvable I will come back to you. But not now. I know I can do this on my own."

"Okay, Hermione, okay. But if you ever need something you only need to call, you know this,right?"

"Sure Harry, but now I need to hurry, my job in the bar begins in twenty-five minutes."

"Thanks for speaking to me Hermione, I love you."

"Love you too, Harry, bye!"

"Bye Hermione", he said, but by the time the last syllable was out she had already cut the line.

Harry sighed once again and turned his attention to the bathroom. He knew it would be a long shower, probably very hot with a lot to think about. He slowly undressed and turned the shower on. Feeling the first drops of hot water on his skin was simply relaxing and exactly what he needed now. Talking with Hermione always made him sad and the fact that she always refused his help made things even worse.

After the war things had rapidly gone worse for the so called brightest witch of her age. She had used her last money to book a flight to Perth, Australia to meet her parents and reverse the memory charm. If all had gone according to the plan, it would have been a happy family reunion that would have resulted in a return of the Granger family to London. But life was never fair, wasn't it? When Hermione had done the memory charm she had never thought of the consequences. Her parents had, as a result to the memory charm, sold everything they owned in England and moved to Australia. Well, that in itself wouldn't have been bad, but seeing that the memory charm forced them to move fast, they had gotten far less for their home and the practice than it had been worth. Harry knew the numbers by heart as Hermione had told them to him on more than one occasion. The Grangers practice sold for 200 thousand pounds and their home for nearly the same. But they had to pay the rest of their mortgage and some interests, leaving them only 320 thousand pounds. Yes, one could argue that this was a respectable amount of money, but it wasn't by far enough. When "Wendell" and "Monica Wilkins" had arrived in Australia they were offered to overtake a nice practice for the price of half a million pounds. As building a new practice from scratch would have been much more expensive, they decided to buy the already established one. This alone left some deep in depth, but on top of that came the small house that they bought. So, when the Wilkins had settled down, they were practically a quarter million pounds in the red numbers. Surely, they had a great income and their financial plan was sound, but what Hermione couldn't know at her age, these plans were always long-time. Nobody took a big credit for a house and intended to pay it off in just one year. So, when Hermione had arrived in Australia and reversed the memory charm she was convinced that her parents would go back with her, she would go to one of the most respectable wizard universities and everything would be fine. That dream turned out wrong when her parents told her in no uncertain terms, that they couldn't go back with such an enormous amount of liabilities. They offered Hermione to visit a public university for a muggle degree while at the same time taking a magical degree at distance university. But they had terms and conditions. First of all, Hermione would get a place at a flat-sharing-community to save costs, she would get herself a job to finance her studies and she would work two times a week for four hours in her parents practice as some kind of compensation for the chaos she had initiated. And so a very hard time had begun for Harry Potters long time friend.

After Harry had heard what had happened to her, he was more than willing to step into the breach and offered her all the money she would need. He had already suspected it and it turned out to be right – she declined. It was her mess and she was the one who would bring things back to order. Harry still had some problems with her decision. He had more money than was good for one person and Hermione had stood by him no matter what. He felt that he owed her a lot. But he also knew that if he insisted Hermione would be miffed beyond reason. Hell, her financial problems were a bloody joke compared to his own wealth, but he knew that every invention on his behalf would turn out wrong. After the war ended, one of his first missions sent him to Gringotts where some ultra-pissed goblins told him in no uncertain words to take his things and leave the bank. Harry wanted to argue, but the goblins told him that after breaking into the bank, they would never trust him again. The only reason why they allowed him to take his things was the defeat of Tom Riddle. And so Harry had transferred every galleon, every sickle and every knut to the first magical bank of Switzerland, the only bank in the world not run by goblins or their distant relatives, the dwarves. And that was the moment Harry discovered how rich he really was. Not only did he have his own vault, which in itself alone was more than half a million galleons, but he also had the Potter family vault, the Black family vault, Sirius personal vault, but he furthermore had inherited large amounts of money from Dumbledore and Snape of all people. To top it of, the ministry had awarded him not only with an order of Merlin, first class, but with a bounty of five million galleons for hunting down Lord Voldemort. So, below the line, he had more than 25 million galleons and more than 10 million pounds at his command. This sheer amount of money alone produced more than half a million pounds in interests per year after taxes. So, in other words – he had begged Hermione to let him take care of her financial problems, but although she always was very sweet and calm, her "no" was more than clear.

Harry turned the water off and noticed with satisfaction that his back muscles felt like jelly. That was exactly like they should feel and if he could get a nice English breakfast his day would be made. Well, some hours of sleep would also be nice, but he had bought a time-adapting potion for this purpose which would take care of this problem. While he scrubbed his back with the towel he tried to decide whether he should use the hotels own restaurant for breakfast or if he should venture into London to find something more traditional and appealing. In the end, his ingrained avarice took over and he opted for the hotel. After all, it was included in the price.

Six hours later, when he was near Piccadilly Circus for a short stroll into the town, his cell phone rang again. A short view on the display informed him that it was someone ringing that he had never heard of before. Furthermore, the callers number was suppressed, only the "external call" showed up. Harry clicked the answer button and spoke his name clearly into the phone.

"Is this Mister Harry Potter?", a voice he had never heard before asked him.

"That's what I just said, Sir. And who are you?"

"My name is Dennis Harrington and I'm the acting first secretary to her royal highness, queen Elizabeth II", answered the voice with just an hint of anger.

"Yeah sure", answered Harry, "and my mother was the last princess of china, so who are you?"

"I just told you, Mister Potter. This is an official call in the name of her majesty and you are..."

Harry simply clicked the "off" button on his phone. Another loony making joke calls. As if the personal secretary of the queen would call him! This was outrageous. Yes, he was famous no doubt. But he was famous in the magical world and not in the muggle world, so the palace had absolutely no reason to call him at all. And even if his fame would be a reason for someone in contact with the royal family they would have called him much earlier, namely the moment after he had defeated Tom Riddle. So, in a nutshell, it was absolutely clear that this guy was nothing more than a mislead kid wanting to speak with him. Although he wondered why someone else except for Hermione had his number.

Harry continued his walk along the streets of London and admired all the shops along the walkway. He was more than one time tempted to walk into a shop just to buy something, but he had never really cared for things without any personal attachments. The only things he went shopping for were clothes and that only when he needed new ones. Deep inside he knew that this was one of the traits that his aunt and uncle had ingrained in him, but he couldn't care less. His most priced possessions were very emotional things like his old firebolt broom and no newer broom in the world could replace it. So, why spend money on things you don't need? Finally, after two hours of aimless walking he discovered a shop that really drew his intention.

It was a very small shop located on the edge of a smaller street and very inconspicuous. All muggles simply seemed to pass it without taking notice and no one stopped to look for the shop's windows. Harry knew instantly that this was probably the effect of an anti-muggle charm or at least an attention-repelling hex. The small sign in the window was beautifully crafted and read "Personal Crafted Wands". Harry had sometimes heard people talking about different wandmakers that didn't work like Ollivanders, who first made the wands and then looked which customer fitted the wand. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mister Potter", was a sentence with so much meaning that it had lead down the road to Voldemorts destruction. Shops like the one before him worked exactly the other way around. They looked for who the wizard was and tried to craft a wand for his personal needs. In other words, wandmaker shops like the one before him were not only highly expensive, but also rare as hell. During their "camping tour" around England while chasing down horcruxes Hermione had told him that only two shops of this kind existed in the world. The first one being somewhere in Japan, the other one being in Greece. Obviously, this one in London was either a hoax or brand new.

There were a couple of wands in the shop window, all carefully deposited on cushions made of silk and they were breathtaking. The first one looked like a unicorn horn, but somehow twisted, richly ornated with diamonds and pearls. The second one looked even stranger. Placed on white silk was a wand that looked like being made of black marble with an finely cut onyx on it's tip. Another one seemed to be made entirely of dragon scales and finally others looked like nothing Harry had ever seen before.

"Well, some further informations won't hurt me", he thought and opened the door into the shop.

He couldn't say what he had expected, probably some old man with grey hair sitting on a stool behind a counter, but no matter what it was, all his expectations proved to be wrong. The whole shop looked like a very cosy living room with just a bare hint of shopping atmosphere. One wall was lined with small drawers, all neatly signed with small white shields. In the corner of the room were two armchairs draped around a small table just in front of an small fireplace. But the most intriguing thing was the wall to Harry's right side. It wasn't what one could call a normal "wall", it was more like hundreds of different tree branches had mingled and formed a solid wall. The room was only lit by the chimney's fire and two candle-holders with seven arms each. The whole shop smelled of an mixture of herbs and Harry's nostrils widened to get the aroma in it's whole bandwidth. He looked around, but didn't see anyone until a hidden door clicked silently and the most beautiful witch he had ever seen entered.

"Potter?", the witch asked sounding surprised. "Potter? Harry Potter?"

"Good day Madame", he answered, "do I know you?"

It took him all the willpower he could muster to speak straightforward. This was by far the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She seemed to be about his age, maybe two years younger, maybe two years older, but he couldn't remember knowing her. Her hair was very long and reached to her shoulder blades with the colour of platinum. If he should have taken a guess he would have said that it was probably as soft as Chinese silk. Her skin colour was alabaster and her proportions looked very female and vulnerable. She had nearly perfect breasts and a small waistline. Her cocktail dress in pale-red seemed out of place for a shopkeeper, but nevertheless fitted perfectly. She wore matching heels that showed off her perfect manicured toenails and the cape in grey gave her a somewhat mystic aura. All in all, if Harry would have to create the perfect woman, she have looked very similar to the one before him. If someone would have asked him in this moment what he wanted to do, his answer would have been somewhere along the line "Caress these wonderful red lips, pet these gorgeous breasts and then shag her senseless until tomorrow".

"Did you hear me, Mister Potter?", the beauty from another world asked.

"I'm sorry, I was captured by your beaut...sorry, by your beautiful shop", he answered, trying to look as neutral as he could.

"Oh yes", she answered with a smile, "people often are astounded by the beauty of my...shop."

"I'm really sorry, Madame, that was totally impolite of me. I'm Harry Potter."

"I know who you are, Mister Potter, even if you don't seem to remember me. You know, you always had so much things to deal with during our school time, that you never had an eye for the less dangerous, but more nicely things in the world. I'm Daphne Greengrass, same Hogwarts year as you, but Slytherin House."

Harry had no idea what to think. Of course had he heard some stories about Daphne Greengrass, or the "Ice-Queen" how she was called. He never had much contact with her, in fact he could count the words they had ever traded on the fingers of one hand. And she was a Slytherin! That meant that some natural carefulness wouldn't be wrong, although he long ago dropped the prejudice about all Slytherin being evil death eaters. And how could such a beauty be anything but nice?

"I'm really sorry, Daphne, and I mean it. Or should I call you Misses Greengrass? Once again, I'm impolite and have to apologize. I saw your shop and became curious. And when you entered it took my breath away facing your beauty. Sorry, sounds probably like a stereotype, but I suppose you know how beautiful you are. So please forgive me for pointing out the obvious in such a manner."

"Call me Daphne, at least as long as it is okay for me to call you Harry. You know, being beautiful is one of the most underestimated burdens in life, but I wouldn't want to bore you with my private problems. So, tell me – do you know what custom made wands are or shall I give you the tour and explain a little bit?"


	5. Wandlore 20

Chapter IV: Wandlore 2.0

Harry sighed. "In general I seem to know a lot more about wands than most wizards or witches do, but I have to admit that my knowledge about custom made wands is very limited."

Daphne nodded and looked into his eyes. She reached into her cape and put two wands onto the small table, the first one obviously bought from Ollivander, the second one being a very strange one, probably custom made. "Look here Harry," she said, "this is my first wand that I bought from Ollivander. It's thirteen inches long, made from maple wood with a core of unicorn hair. It worked very well for me during school time and still now serves as the wand for my day-to-day work."

She took her wand and pointed it at the nearby chandelier. "You will certainly remember this spell", she said with a smile on her face. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" As a result the candle-holder raised two feet up into the air. "Now look for the details, Harry." With her free hand she drew an imaginary horizontal line along the floating chandelier. "Notice that it is not perfectly balanced out what can easily be seen from the wax dripping on my floor. If the candles would be lifted perfectly straight, my floor would have remained clean."

"But that is fairly normal", answered Harry. "The spell is only as good as the wizards imagination of the spell is, in other words, if you cannot visualize a straight line, your spell won't give you any."

"Exactly. And can you name me one wizard or witch who is capable of imagining a really horizontal line without flaws?"

"Hm, Hermione maybe?", he said with a tight smile on his lips.

Daphne laughed hard as he pointed out the obvious. "Well, expect for Granger. At all, she is the witch of the century and can certainly do things we others have no chance at achieving for a lifetime."

"Well, if Hermione doesn't count, how about Dumbledore? I'm sure he could have done it."

"Harry Potter, you know that you have a serious problem, right?", she countered giggling. "All that hanging out with really exceptional wizards has clouded your mind for us normal people. Okay, Granger probably could, Dumbledore could have done it and before you mention it, the Dark Lord and Merlin could also have done it. But what about normal wizards? Let's say, Draco Malfoy, Longbottom, Finch-Fletchley or even Flitwick?"

Harry's answer was prompt. "Okay, I see your point. So, the broad average of wizards will never be able to execute enough control for such magic."

"Exactly Harry. So, let's cancel that spell and let us see what my custom made wand can do for me."

She put her wand back at the table and Harry once again admired her beautiful long and slender fingers when she touched the other wand.

"This is obviously another wand, in fact it is the first wand I ever made myself. It is twelve and a half inches long, the wood is Montpellier Maple and the core consists of two single strands of unicorn tail hair coated in bee honey, one from a very old unicorn the other from a foal, both freely given. The grip is reinforced with powdered moonstone and the pearl on the tip was collected during full sunshine. Now look more closely – see that runes along the shaft?"

Harry bent forward and examined the shaft in detail. There were three neatly carved runes along the shaft which he couldn't identify. "Yes, I see. There are three runes engraved. But I never took runes in school, so I have no idea what they mean."

"Fairly good Harry, very observing. These are the runes for _Sha-Hachz_, the old Babylonian word for 'change', for _Tesse't_, the Babylonian word for 'carefulness' and the last rune means _Velgs'sar_. That is the ancient name for the brotherhood of wandmakers around the world. Only those born with the talent for wandlore are allowed to use this special rune. But this isn't everything. I want you to take my wand and examine it really closely."

Daphne held her hand out, the wand lying flat on it. Harry took it from her and shivered a little bit when he touched her smooth and silky skin. The wand itself felt cold in his hands, like he wouldn't possess any magic at all.

"It feels somehow wrong, so cold," he said.

"That's right Harry, what else do you feel?"

"The whole wand feels unfitting, so as if it doesn't want to be in my hands."

Once again Daphne donated him one of these wonderful smiles. "Perfectly right Harry – ten points to Gryffindor." Both had to laugh at this comment, a small remembrance to their old school days. "This is exactly what the wand wants. It doesn't want to work for you, it even doesn't want to be in your hands. It is so attuned to me that it even wouldn't change allegiance if you would disarm me or conquer it otherwise during a duel."

Harry sighed once again and rubbed his free hand against his chin. "That in itself is a remarkable feature, but what else does it do? Is it really so powerful how people claim custom wands to be?"

Now it was Daphne's time to laugh and she had to do it hard. In fact, she laughed for more than a whole minute before she could once again breathe slowly.

"Yes, that's what people think, right? Grab a custom wand, jump into a fight and overpower everyone else. Yes baby, that's the way it works. Summon a patronus so powerful that it smashes dementors, repeat killing curses over and over without exhaustion and overpower reducto curses that even the walls of an ancient fortress come crushing down. Is that, in short, what people think?"

"In nutshell, without further addo – yes."

Daphne reached for her wand and Harry willingly gave it back. "They are all wrong, Potter", she pointed out whispering. "Custom made wands do nothing of this sort, their power is far more subtle, far greater if used wisely and far less if used for the wrong reasons. Watch."

For the second time this evening she cast the levitation spell on the chandelier and Harry had to look very closely to see the differences. Seeing that Daphne had pointed out to him that on her first try the horizontal line wasn't perfect this was the first that he looked for. And in fact, the candle-holder floated in the air so straight that he couldn't believe it. No wax was dripping on the floor and even the candles itself had straightened out themselves. The candles flames weren't moving, in fact it was as if time would stand still.

"See the difference Potter? Everything is as it should be, that is the special power of custom wands. Magic becomes more clearly, more defined. The wand supports the wizard, it knows what you want and helps you to bring it out. Custom wands are not only means of channelling magic, they are finely tuned instruments to support your own magic. They sense, they feel what the owner wants. They live and they die with you. Let me give you another example."

The young wand-maker once again grabbed her original wand and cast a simple _Tondeo_ spell, designed for day-to-day shavings. She motioned for Harry to feel his skin and he acknowledged that his skin was in fact clear as it was every morning. Then, Daphne did the same spell with her custom made wand and made him feel again. The result was not earthshaking, but his skin felt somehow clearer and his little chin beard felt better cut on the edges.

"One last example Harry? Something a little more interesting?"

"Sure," he smiled, "show me what you can do."

Daphne waved her old wand in an intricate pattern and on the table appeared the model of an old house, complete with windows, roof and gardens. "May I introduce you to Greengrass Manor, Harry?"

Harry took a closer look and had to agree that it was indeed a very fine piece of magic Daphne had done. Such a detailed conjuration was remarkable. It was even possible to differ between the normal garden and a small herb garden in the backyard.

"That's a great piece of magic, Daphne", he told her. "Now, could you show me the difference?"

"Sure, but prepare for a surprise." She waved her custom made wand and Harry noticed that while she went through the spell's pattern her eyes became somewhat dreamy and a lone tear sparkled in her left eye. Meanwhile on the table another model formed and where the first one was great in detail, this one was simply spectacular. Each roofing shingle was clearly capable of being differentiated, each tree had tiny birds chirping their song, the old pond had ducks and ducklings in it and you could even hear the garden door squeaking in the wind. It was nothing but breathtaking and Harry doubted that even the best transfiguration masters in the world would have been capable of producing such a fine piece of magic without one of these special wands.

"This is really beautiful Daphne, is this the place you grew up?"

"It was", she answered with sadness in her voice. "It was burned down two weeks after the Dark Lord's death by some rogue death eaters. This is", she pointed a finger towards the model, "how I remember it."

"I'm sorry for your loss", he said and truly meant it. Greengrass Manor looked so ancient, but nevertheless beautiful in it's simplicity. He could imagine a younger version of Daphne playing on the lawn, her sister in tow. And he knew deep in his heart that if Greengrass Manor had been his home he would have missed it dearly.

Daphne's thoughts were somewhere else while Harry watched her model. She cursed herself for choosing her home instead of something more neutral like the Gringotts building or the ministry of magic. What she had held back was the little fact that her parents had died the night of the death eaters raid and her sister Astoria had lost her mind. Poor little Astoria, she was always so strong, but she couldn't handle her parents death like she could. Since Voldemorts demise she had known all the time that it was a possibility that the Dark Lords followers would come after all 'traitors' like the Greengrass family. Her family had turned their backs to the pureblood society when Antonio Zabini had demanded a marriage contract between his oldest son Blaise and Astoria Greengrass. Daphne's parents had declined like they always did when someone wanted to buy their daughters and the Zabinis had been royally pissed. They used their influence within the death eaters circle to spin a story that Astoria was already betrothed to some rich muggle and as a result the Greengrass family was considered as blood traitors making them a prime target for the death eaters vengeance.

"Daphne?", Harry asked for the third time.

She opened her eyes and looked towards the young man in front of her. Obviously he had tried to capture her attention for a while now.

"I'm sorry Harry, again. I seem to have drifted away. What did you say?"

"I asked what other advantages custom wands have?"

Daphne straightened herself. That at least was something she could point out without much thinking. "Well, as you have seen, they focus the users magic drastically more than normal wands, although you won't gain additional powers or abilities you never had before. If you couldn't cast the patronus charm with your normal wand, a custom made one wouldn't help you, you would need a stronger memory. It would be the same with, let's say for an example, the Cruciatus curse. If you simply don't have enough hate to torture your victim, a custom wand wouldn't help you also. In a nutshell, if a spell is based on emotions, my wands are of the same use as Ollivander's are. Another point is that they won't give you knowledge you don't possess yourself. So, if you have never heard of a spell, don't know the movements and incantations, even the advantage of an custom made wand wouldn't matter. Furthermore, it cannot enhance magic in areas you as a person are not comfortable with. So, if you have no affinity for the Dark Arts, Transfigurations in general or let's say conjuring, my wands are nothing more than your simple wooden stick. May I point out something drastical Harry?"

Harry was not sure what she meant and said so.

"I know that you have been under the Imperius Curse before and that you can break it. Would you let me try it on you to explain the difference better?"

Now that was something Harry had certainly no problems with. He had been under Crouch's curse and he was able to break it. He even broke the Imperius of Voldemort so he couldn't see in how far Daphne would be able to control him. "Do it", he said.

She pointed her standard wand at him, spoke the incantation and waited for a response. Harry had to smile, he had broken her "curse" practically the moment she spoke the words. And he knew by heart that she would never be able to control him, there simply wasn't enough willpower behind the spell. On her second try, this time with her self-made wand he felt exactly the same.

"Daphne? Sorry to say, but I broke your curse both times in a matter of..."

"...seconds", she completed his sentence. "This is what I wanted to show you. I never had an affinity for the unforgivable curses, although I'm quite good at some more obscure branches of the Dark Arts. My strength lies in certain charms, runes, wand related transfigurations and some potions. I'm fairly average at most other fields of magic, but nevertheless my own wand won't help me, because it senses my insecurities."

"So, in other words, a custom made wand offers the ability to refine your inborn advantages, but does nothing for your disadvantages, right?"

"In a nutshell, yes. But it does even more for you. As you have seen, your spells become more detailed, more focused and it is far easier to cast the more draining spells, at least if you had no problems with them before. Take your Patronus as an example. Like I said before, a custom made wand cannot help you with emotion based spells as the Patronus is. But it will certainly help to endure the drain on your magic, at least if it is one of your preferred spells. So, just for example, if you are able to hold your Patronus for three minutes with a normal wand, you could lengthen this time to maybe four or five minutes with a custom wand."

"Any other advantages I should know of?"

"Yes, of course. A custom made wand will never, really never change allegiances, even if someone subdues you in combat. Imagine it as part your body that cannot be taken from you. Furthermore it is fairly easy to summon it wandlessly, although it doesn't enhance your wandless magic ability on any other spell. It simply seems to know when you need your wand and will come to you accordingly. And in some cases, depending on the used materials, they contain unbreakable charms, so that it is impossible to damage them in any way. That of course doesn't mean that your wand cannot be destroyed. There are still some substances out there, like the corrosive poison of the Tibetan silver adder, that will ultimately destroy such a wand."

"What about fiendfyre?"

"Same result – that demonic fire destroys everything, custom made wands included."

Harry was intrigued. For minutes he had thought of the Elder Wand. It was still in Dumbledore's white tomb, under concealment charms and permanent sticking spells, but he knew that it was always an possibility that someone would try to take it. But even if he would be successful he or she would have to fight Harry to get the Elder Wand's allegiance. If he would possess a wand that wouldn't change allegiance, in how far would that affect the Elder Wand? Or to be more precise, in how far would that affect his holly and phoenix feather wand or Draco's old wand? He decided to take a risk and ask Daphne about that.

"Daphne, usually I would say that I don't need a custom made wand at all, but I have some serious issues with the wands I already own. It is absolutely imperative that they never, never ever change their allegiance and I'm thinking of buying one of your wands to make sure that they don't. Do you have any experience on that field?"

The young wand-maker had to think about that. Harry wouldn't be the first person to ask this question, but usually her customers weren't Harry Potter who owned such a dangerous wand as the one from Lord Voldemort. That alone was a dangerous wand in itself as it had done deeds so horrible that it was absolutely possible that some personal traits from the former Dark Lord had been ingrained in his wand's core. But she had to know more before she could give an honest answer.

"Harry, I want to be honest with you. There are lots of buzzes around and I need to know the truth when I have to answer your question. Are we talking about about the Dark Lord's old wand that he bought at Ollivander?"

It was the third time on this fine day that Harry had to sigh. "No, not really. But I'm talking about a wand so dangerous that it has affected the course of time and history."

"Holy shit. I'm curious – what are you talking about."

"I'm really sorry Daphne. But before I give you this information I want an unbreakable vow from you. This information is far too dangerous to become common knowledge."

"Merlin! You really have it? You own the Elder Wand?"

Harry kept a poker face. "No idea what you are talking about. So, how about the vow?"

"Potter", she said, "I was a Slytherin for a reason, you know. I can sense the truth when people speak to me. Holy Circe, all these rumours were really true, you have the bloody Elder Wand. Yes, by Morgana's pants, I'm willing to swear that oath. Shit, everybody wants to hear that story. Are you sure that it is everything you need from me? How about my first-borne or my soul?", she joked to lighten the mood. "But yes, I'm willing to do so."

"Let's keep it simple", Harry answered. "Do you, Daphne Greengrass, first daughter to the house of Greengrass, swear on your magic and life that you will keep the knowledge of my special wand to yourself for all times or until I tell you to do so. Do you swear that to me?"

Daphne didn't hesitate for a single second. "I, Daphne Greengrass swear an holy oath on my life and magic to do as you, Harry Potter, asked me to do."

"So mote it be", completed Harry the ritual oath and a small flash of white magic washed around them.

"Spill it, Potter", she demanded.

"Well," he said. "Of course you are correct in your assessment. Voldemort took the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb, but wasn't able to use it to it's full capacity. The deathstick was taken by force, to be more precise with an _Expelliarmus_ from Dumbledore by Draco Malfoy, and when I defeated Draco both wands switched their allegiance to me. Short version – bad guy tried to kill me with the most powerful wand in history that had already given his allegiance to me. Wasn't too clever from dear old Tom if we consider the result, if you ask me."

"Merlin, I should have known it. You do know of course, that every wand-maker in the world would give both legs and an arm just to take a look at this wand, right?"

"Sure, Daphne. But you will never lay your hands on it, nor will anyone else if I have to say something about it. That wand is much too dangerous for anyone to use."

"So you are planning to die undefeated? That way the Elder Wand would loose all his power."

"Clever woman, that's exactly how it is supposed to be."

"Then I suppose it is your lucky day Harry. I can help you. But it is a little bit dangerous and there are some real disadvantages that you should know of. First of all, you would loose all knowledge considering the Elder Wand, but on the other hand you would turn the Elder Wand practically useless. Furthermore, you would loose all knowledge about your other two wands. In fact, I would need to destroy them during the process of making a new wand for you. And last, but not least, it would be hellish expensive. No idea about the numbers so far, but prepare for a hefty invoice."

"Money is usually not an issue, but just for the sake of it, how much would you charge me?"

"That depends on the materials for your new wand Harry. And when I say it depends, that is exactly what I mean. The process of determining the ingredients is long and hard and you better prepare yourself for some painful experiences. If your new wand isn't too unusual I will charge you somewhere between fifty-thousand and one hundred thousand galleons, but be aware that these numbers can drastically increase if you are the type of man that needs some really rare stuff which are difficult to come by."

"Wow, that is indeed a lot of money. Is there a limit?"

"Not really. See, one of my customers ordered a wand and I determined that he needed three different cores. A heartstring from an russian white-horn dragon, the testicles of an ordinary wolf and a powdered finger from a virgin witch born at the full moon. The first two ingredients weren't hard to come by and not really expensive, but do you have an idea how much virgins charge for one of their limps? It cost me half a million galleons to convince a witch to give up a finger. And these are the kind of costs that rapidly rise the price for a wand."

"What kind of bastard needs such a wand?", asked Harry in disgust.

"Sorry, I never distribute personal informations about my customers. Let's just say that he or she is really a twisted bastard and probably paedophiliac. See, the used components for a wand say much about the wizard or the witch. A dragon heartstring points to a reckless person, the cut testicles resemble of a nymphomaniac person and we better don't talk about the finger. It was disgusting, really sick, believe me. But once I agree to make a wand I'm bound to the wandmakers codex. So I didn't have a choice but to complete this weird stick."

"May I ask how many wands you already made?"

"Sure. In total I made nine wands so far which took me a little bit under a year. The first one was my own, the second one was for someone for my family and the third was for McGonagall. She is, by the way, the only one who expressed that I were allowed to talk about her wand. It's very unique and perfect for transfigurations."

Harry paused for some seconds before he looked into Daphne's eyes sceptically. "You already worked for a full year? Weren't you an apprentice before?"

Daphne returned his glare and answered coldly: "I know what you mean Potter. Your real question is whether I'm capable of crafting a wand without some explicit training, right?"

"No, that isn't...", began Harry but was interrrupted. "Don't play with me Potter. I know exactly what people think of me. They always see my tits and consider me fresh meat without brain or sufficient training. Blond and stupid, but a first class fuck – I know what men think. Let me tell you wonderboy, that you can't learn to craft real wands! You need an genetic ability to do so along with a couple of very special skills that most people will never have! And even if I'm bloody pretty I do possess these skills AND a brain, you know?"

"Hey wonderwoman! Just in case YOU didn't know, I was simply curious and I'm well aware of the fact that beauty and brains CAN go along with each other. I assure you, if I have some ambivalent meanings, I'm going to tell you explicitly."

Daphne leaned back against her chair. That was always the problem when you worked with male people you knew from the past. You always took things for granted and more often than not you thought that they were the same people they had been in school. There were always prejudices and most people never took the time to check them for truths. She usually was a very proud woman who knew that appearances could be deceiving and that people could indeed change. She had seen it very often, especially after the war. And now she had given in to the most common mistake – she had taken the 'boy-who-lived' for granted. How many people had done the same? Probably every witch and wizard in Great Britain.

"I have to apologize Harry. What I said was more out of habit than anything else. You probably won't understand, but people see what they want to see. And in general people see my outer appearances and think they know me. Even worse are people I attended Hogwarts with. They usually see the 'Ice-Queen' and cannot imagine that I'm quite capable of hard work and real magic. You may be the one person who understands me if I say that not everything is as it looks like. And be assured, I'm more than capable of crafting a wand for you."

That was indeed something Harry could identify himself with. In fact, his whole life people had only seen the saviour of the wizarding world and not the boy Harry Potter who had his own fears and wishes.

"Okay Daphne, I know perfectly well what you are talking about. Be assured that you probably won't find anybody else in London who understands you better. Now, back to our original topic – would you be willing to craft me a wand?"

"Sure Harry, but let me point out some facts before you finally agree. First of all, crafting a custom wand is a very personal experience and in some cases I will require your help. Second, depending on the components, stellar constellations and needed potions it is possible to wait for more than a year before you have your wand. Third, all greater expenses will be paid in advance. I simply don't own enough money to give my customers a massive credit out of my own purse. Fourth, if it is necessary to purchase components worth more than five thousand galleons you will accompany me to seal the deal. Fifth, if I set a date for a meeting you will cancel all other dates. Some of the work requires a very strict time window and the whole process would be ruined if you wouldn't show up. Six, if that happens and the wand is ruined, no expenses are paid back. Condition seven is probably the most strict one – if any personal contact between us is required, like a dream voyage for example, I want an unbreakable vow from you that you will never distribute the informations gained. And last, I cannot give you a guarantee that the whole trick with the elder wand will work, that topic is purely experimental and although I'm quite confident we cannot be sure that it works. Is that okay for you?"

"That is absolutely acceptable but for one point. I also want a vow just in case you gain information I don't want you to have." Harry thought of the horcruxes for example or his other misdeeds in the past.

Daphne raised from her seat and hold out her hand. "It seems we have a deal Mister Potter."

"Indeed, we have. I'm looking forward to my new wand, Mrs Greengrass", he smiled back.


	6. A new wand and pureblood customs

Chapter V: A New Wand and Pureblood Customs

Early on the next morning Harry left the Sheraton and took a taxi to Daphne's store. For a change the weather was quite acceptable and even a small glimpse of the sun showed up on the sky. The young man took that as a good sign and entered the shop in good hope. He hoped that this small step for him would turn out as a huge step towards his personal goal – independence from his past. His whole life had been about defeating Tom Riddle and his collection of wands was one of the last links left and he wanted to sever them. Sure, there were some other things he possibly could never get rid of, but with the stone lost in the forest and the Elder Wand rendered useless, things would be much easier.

He had no idea what to expect from this day so he was eager to know what Daphne had prepared. But when he looked around the shop he didn't see her. He took out his old and battered watch he once got from the Weasleys and noticed that he was nearly half an hour too early. Deciding that he would have to wait one way or another he took place in the same chair as yesterday. His eyes wandered around the shop and like yesterday his view was captured by the collection of small drawers on the wall. He decided to take a closer look and stood up to inspect them. They were made from wood and had neatly written signs in a female handwriting. The whole wall looked a little bit like Snape's old cabinet for potion ingredients and even the contents weren't that much different. He found thyme, mandrake, devil's root, foxglove, bat wings and at least dozens of other typical ingredients for potions. But there were also things you probably wouldn't find in Snape's collection like different dragon skins, gems and pearls, at least two dozen different kinds of blood and some things Harry hadn't even heard of. Harry was curious what some of these things could be and tried to open a drawer labelled with 'tellurium'.

His hands had barely touched the drawer when he felt totally stunned and unable to move. He knew that an spell had been released and that it obviously had been some kind of petrifying hex like the _Petrificus Totalus_ spell Hermione had used against Neville in their first year at Hogwarts. His stiff body followed the law of gravity and he fell backwards onto the wooden floor. Surprisingly he wasn't hurt like he had thought and while he watched the ceiling he concluded that Daphne must have placed cushioning charms on her floor.

In the small flat above her shop Daphne was rudely disturbed when one of her wards triggered. Even worse, it was the anti-thieving ward she had placed over the drawers that contained her tools and ingredients for wand making. After opening the shop she had returned to her flat for light breakfast knowing that at this early hour nobody would come except for maybe Potter if he was too early. "Morgana", she thought, "what kind of moron tries to steal at such an ungodly hour?" Luckily she was already dressed, so she drew her wand and apparated to her working rooms which where located at the back of her shop. Assuming the worst she stormed into her shop ready to fire a couple of stunners at the intruder, just in case the ward's own defence mechanism had failed. But what she saw wasn't some kind of evil thief but a certain black haired boy lying flat on his back like a lady-beetle.

Normally she would have laughed, but it was still early and if she wasn't one thing it was a morning person. In fact, she didn't have breakfast, she didn't have coffee and she didn't had time to apply some make-up. That were three good reasons to be annoyed. Grudgingly she approached her drawers, pointed her wand at Harry and spoke _Revertate_, a stronger version of the _Finite Incantatem_ spell.

"Get on your feet Potter", she said without trying to keep the anger out of her voice. "What the hell were you thinking? Did you really believe that I would leave some of my most expensive possessions unguarded?"

Harry felt his body once again reacting to his commands and got up. "I'm sorry Daphne, I was only curious..."

"And curiosity killed the cat! What would you have done if I had stronger wards? Maybe some of these really dangerous ones purebloods usually use to protect their property? Morgana, really – by now you should know to never touch something you have no idea of!"

"Okay, okay, I got it. But it was boring just sitting here when you weren't in the shop! So what? It's perfectly normal to get curios, you know?"

"Potter, are you daft or are you daft? You should have called me!"

"Just in case you haven't noticed, Greengrass", he emphasized her last name, "you weren't here! Who leaves his shop open, but isn't there for his customers?" The last part was practically yelled, because he was getting angry. He was being chastised for something perfectly normal and he didn't like it at all.

"And of course you've never heard of calling-points, have you Potter? Or is it beneath you to touch your wand to my counter?", Daphne yelled back.

Harry just stood there and gaped at her with wide eyes. Somewhat calmer he said: "I've never heard of something like that and as far as I can see you have no sign here to point out that there actually is something like a, what did you call it? A calling point?"

Daphne ignored Harry's last sentence and walked over to her counter with the old cash register. She stuck the tip of her wand onto the counter's wood and instantly a small ringing sound filled the room.

"And of course, after ten years in the wizarding world you have never heard of it, right?", she spat out sarcastically with a hint of clear disdain in her voice.

"Don't get all high and mighty on me, Greengrass", he countered. "No, I've never heard of it and this is the first time that I see something like this. Sorry, I'm not an pureblood arse that knows all typical wizarding customs by heart."

Daphne looked at him and she saw that he was honest with her. Nobody (except for Draco Malfoy perhaps) was capable of lying with such an sincere look on his face. In fact, his face showed a little bit of embarrassment hidden under his anger. Was it really possible that the boy-who-lived had no idea of the most simple traditions and customs in the wizarding world? She had heard rumours about Harry Potter, but of course she wouldn't believe all this gossip about how hard the upbringing of the wizarding world's champion had been. Of course Dumbledore had ensured that he knew everything he needed to know, right?

"So, you want to tell me", she began in a much more civilized tone, "that you really had no idea about his? Please, be honest with me. You know, I'm fairly certain that you have already bought a lot of things in the wizarding world, at least some simple things like a wand at Ollivander, clothes in Diagon Alley, food at Brickenstones, books at Flourish and Blotts, potion ingredients or owl treats in Knockturn Alley, correct?"

"Sorry, but – no", was his answer. "I've bought my first wand at Ollivander, yes. But he was already in his shop so no need to call him. The same goes for Madame Malkins. I have no idea what Brickenstones is and my books were bought by Molly Weasley. Same goes for my potion ingredients and my owl treats except for a few instances were I bought them personally in Diagon Alley. Truth is, I never bought anything in Knockturn Alley before, because the Weasleys and even Hagrid warned me to go there. In the States I mostly used muggle stores for shopping, so in a nutshell – no, I've never used a calling point before."

Daphne was surprised. This was definitely not what she had expected. At least a modicum of the most casual wizarding customs was what she had expected, but now she doubted his knowledge about the magical community. Had all his life really been about the Dark Lord? Was he, for lack of a better term, a muggle with magical abilities? No, that would have been too far fetched. She knew from her time in Slytherin that Harry had spent a great deal of time together with the Weasleys, so some basic understanding of daily life should be there. It was impossible that they had kept their children at home the whole time, wasn't it?

She looked at Harry who still had that sincere look on his face. Grudgingly Daphne decided to let the topic go for the moment. He was still a customer and although she had known him for years, he was a dark horse in so many aspects that she didn't trust her judgement at the moment.

"Okay Harry, shall we say that I had a bad morning and overreacted and that you weren't careful enough and we both take some of the blame?"

It was an olive branch and Harry knew it. She offered him the chance to start the morning from scratch and if he was honest with himself he knew that it was mostly his own mistake. It took him mere seconds to decide that it was the better option to dismiss the whole trouble and continue like he had planned.

"You are right, of course", he started, "I shouldn't have touched your drawers, a simple question would have satisfied my curiosity. So, what had you planned for today?"

"First things first Harry, let me get my working clothes and give me some minutes to complete my morning toilet and then we can talk about what is going to happen today. In fact, we have a lot of talking to do, so you better prepare for a long session. I suppose we will work for at least a couple of hours before we can start with the first real step. Sit down, relax and if you are a good boy I'll bring you some tea. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me, can I help you with anything in the meantime?"

"Not really, just sit down, I won't need too long, promised." She turned and headed for the door to her working room, when he called her again. With a sheepish voice he asked: "Do you think we could have some coffee instead of tea?"

Her giggling was all the answer he got before she left the room. He wondered whether he had said something stupid before he looked at the comfortable chair and decided that probably the best course of action would be to do as she had said and so he sat down.

Meanwhile Daphne was back in her small two-room flat and finished what she had started over half an hour ago. She switched her casual morning clothes for some wide flowing robes of pure cotton and put on a pair of her more comfortable shoes. Afterwards she braided her long hair and attached it with some needles to her head. Daphne only used a very light make-up and opted for only a single drop of orchid essence instead of her usual perfume. Today would be a very difficult day if she had to take a guess. Her customer was no one else but Harry Potter and although she had only been average in divination it was fairly easy to predict that his needs wouldn't be easy to satisfy. She had already gotten a good lead on what he wanted and if the Elder Wand was involved, things were never easy. Combine the fact that she dealt with Harry Potter **and** the Elder Wand things could quickly turn out very ugly. While she watched herself in the mirror her thoughts were far away. She loved her talent for crafting special wands, that was undoubted. But was she really willing to involve herself in such a difficult project? Her life-time strategy had been to avoid trouble at all costs and now she was throwing herself into a project that dealt with one of the most mightiest magical artefacts known to mankind. She was unsure. There was still time to reject Harry as a customer, but something deep in her unconsciousness forced her to take the job. That, and of course the fact that she still owed the goblins more than fifty-thousand galleons she had taken as a credit for the shop. Most people assumed that old family lines like the Greengrasses were rich as hell, but the war had taken it's toll from most darker families who aligned themselves with Voldemort. Not only had her father spent a good portion of the family fortune for the Dark Lord, but the ministry had taken most of the leftover liquid cash as reparations. That way, her parents who both bore the dark mark, had stayed out of Azkaban. And what good had it done? Her mother and her father were both dead, the last remnants of a former fortune burnt with Greengrass Manor. All she had left was her shop, enough money to pay half a year of St. Mungos for her sister, some meagre galleons for herself from her last job and of course the deed for the land in Wales were the manor had been located. Sure, there were still some pieces of jewellery left, mostly things that had been salvaged from the remnants of her former home, but she doubted that they would make much money if she had to sell them. And of course, selling the Greengrass family rings was out of question. All in all, there wasn't much choice. She had only four and a half years left to repay the goblins or the land in Wales would be gone as would most of her other possessions.

She flicked her wand and in a matter of minutes she had brewed some coffee. Daphne took out her special tableware, two teacups with the family crest and an ancient teapot and filled them with the fresh coffee. It had cost her quite an effort to use these precious pieces for something so muggle like coffee, but it wasn't the first time either. On a more rational level she knew that she would have to adapt to the now different circumstances, but a small part of her still resisted and wanted to stay the ever-spoilt little girl that she had been all her life. She knew that it would have been easy to enter into a lucrative marriage contract with one of the richer families, but her freedom was the one thing she wasn't going to sacrifice. Daphne had seen enough pureblood women who had been forced into arranged marriages and none of them were happy. In fact, everyone knew this little detail, it was probably the worst hidden secret of the whole wizarding world. Women were still only goods that men could trade at will to gain more power, political influence or simply more money.

Daphne looked at the old picture framed at the wall. Her father, that old asshole, sat on a chair in the center, surrounded by "his" woman. Her mother, Cecilia Greengrass, was standing behind him and to each side was one of his daughters flanking him. A small tear escaped her when she touched her mother's picture and for the hundredth time she silently swore to never succumb to a man. Never would she be subdued or forced into something that wasn't of her own free will and she had the means to achieve it. One of the last presents her mother had given her was a small necklace made of black onyx that she always wore. To the untrained eye it was nothing but a fancy piece of jewellery but those who were trained in the Dark Arts would resemble it for what it was – a Perfugator. These little artefacts were classified as type Z items, in other words highly forbidden, but she doubted that anyone except for the oldest purebloods could identify it. They contained a simple and clever charm that in itself was nothing extraordinary. They combined an emergency portkey (in her case to Kopenhagen, Denmark) with untrackable charms, anti-pursuit hexes and an aura-destroying curse. What made them so forbidden was the fact that the creator had to sacrifice some blood and a good portion of his life-time, usually one or two whole years. As a result, Perfugators were the ultimate means of escaping, they not only brought you away in an instant, they also made it impossible to be followed or tracked down by magical means. As a drawback the escaping person wouldn't be able to do magic for some hours. But that was a small price to pay, should the need ever arise. Daphne collected her things and thought that hopefully she never would have to use her Perfugator. She apparated back to her working room and prepared for a long day with Harry.

Harry heard the small sound apparating usually does and seconds later Daphne entered the room carefully holding a tablet with a teapot and two cups. He idly wondered whether she had respected his wish for coffee, but quickly dismissed it as not really important. After all, he was back in England and the magical community still insisted in tea, although lots of muggles preferred the hot black coffee in the morning. He took a closer look at Daphne and he really liked what he saw. Gone were the extravagant woman from yesterday, today she wore much more casual clothes. He fought a small internal dispute with himself trying to decide which version he liked better and came to the decision that the fancy Daphne was more his style. This version before him looked so fragile and vulnerable that he had to suppress the instinct to take her into his arms to spend some comfort. Saving that little diamond of information for later, his good manners took over and he raised to take the tablet from her.

Daphne was surprised that Potter would try to help her when in fact he was the customer who should be served. She politely declined his offer and instead served him his coffee before she poured herself a cup.

For a short time both enjoyed the hot liquid without talking before Daphne broke the silence.

"So Harry, I think it is high time we talk business if that's okay for you", she opened the talk. "If I remember correctly from our talk yesterday you want me to make a wand for you that combines some really difficult abilities. Your prime goal is that the Elder Wand will never switch his allegiance, so that his extraordinary powers will be gone if you die. Second, your new custom wand shall serve you better than your holly and phoenix feather wand does. Is that basically correct?"

Harry looked at the table for some seconds, deep in thought. Yes, that was what he had told Daphne, but was it really what he wanted? Sure, getting rid of the Elder Wand would be an enormous alleviation, but it also meant that he would loose the support of one of the strongest artefacts at his disposal should the need ever arise again. He had thought about this the whole last evening and a small part of him wanted to hold onto the legendary wand, but another part, probably the greater one, wanted to get rid of the Deathly Hallows and that meant that the deathstick would have to go. He was still a little bit unsure, but in the end his wish for an future independent from the past took over.

"Yes, basically", he answered. "Although I must admit that loosing the allegiance of the Elder Wand won't be as easy as I think. I always think about the future and what might happen. Do you understand what I mean? If I'm lucky I will never need it again, but what if anything goes wrong? Then I would be without my strongest weapon?"

Daphne looked hard at Harry. She knew by heart that no Slytherin would ever have thought about giving up a wand so powerful and she was surprised that Harry even considered it. Surely, he was Gryffindor and that meant that she couldn't apply the rules for members of her own house. But deep in her heart she was convinced that there was more to the story, a part no one had ever heard of. It was nothing more than a small thought based on Harry's behaviour, but nevertheless she knew by instinct that this what not the whole truth.

"Harry, May I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure. Asking is one thing, whether I give an answer is something totally different", he answered.

"What do you want for the future Harry? How shall your life be? And don't tell me what you think it will be like. Keep out all realism and tell me your dream Harry, please. Look here – if you are not willing to let go of the Elder Wand, it won't work. So please tell, what do you dream of?"

When Harry had decided to get himself a custom wand, he never thought that the process would need so much personal informations, but he suspected that Daphne knew what she was doing and answered honestly. "I want love in my life, Daphne. The love I rarely had. And I want a family, if possible a great family. But more than anything, I want peace in my life. Just give me a nice wife, some children, a small cottage and a nice job and I will be happy. But if we talk about realistic..."

He was stopped by Daphne who had raised her hand signalling him to stop. "I know very well what you mean. Don't forget that I'm also part of the war generation and in a nutshell my dream is the same. But more important if that is what you dream of, you have a good chance to get rid of the Elder Wand. You see – the wish for a future without the need of such an powerful item is the greatest benefactor you have. Only those who feel like you have a chance of letting go of the past, which in your case means letting go of the Elder Wand."

"You really think so?", he asked coyly.

"Indeed, I do. Only those who look for a future don't have to linger in the past. And only those who are willing to look forward instead of backwards are able to forget and that is the most important detail now."

She took a moment to sip from her coffee and to collect her thoughts. She had a fairly good idea how to deal with Harry's problems, but it would be complicated nevertheless. And explaining it to him would even be more complicated.

"Okay, I will try to tell you what I think, but you should know that most of it is purely experimental, because nobody has ever dealt with such a problem before. Let's start with the easy part. Your own wand that you bought at Ollivander's and Draco's old wand that switched his allegiance to you are not much of an problem. I intend to open them, collect the phoenix feather and the unicorn hair and use them as part of your wands core. The process is of course time-consuming and really difficult, but not really dangerous. I have the hope that both cores will react positively with your new wand. That eliminates the problem that someone beats you in a duel where you use one of these two wands and in the consequence the Elder Wand will switch to someone else. Do you understand this so far?"

"Of course. In a nutshell, you are going to recycle my old wands. I understand the principle, yes. You see it's like the empty bottle you put in a special bin so that they can be refilled at the factory."

Daphne looked at him cluelessly. Bottles? Bins? Back to the factory? What the bloody hell was he talking about?

"Are you sure you understand me Harry? Because I have no idea what you have been talking about in your last comment, I'm sorry."

Harry chuckled. Leave it to a pureblood to have no idea about trash recycling. "Not so important Daphne, it's a muggle thing", he answered with a twinkle in his eyes.

"If you say so, okay. Now onto our bigger problem, the Elder Wand. The procedure I suggested for your other two wands won't work with this powerful wand. First of all, although I have a very, very strong natural talent for wand-making, I don't feel competent enough to open it. Furthermore, most artefacts as old and powerful as the Elder Wand have some kind of own consciousness. I'm pretty sure that it would actively resist to an opening procedure. So, basically that won't work. My second best guess would be to actively switch his allegiance to someone else, probably a dying wizard that only has some days left to live. But before you say anything, I already ruled this option out. I wouldn't trust anybody enough to carry out such a task and your control over the whole situation would be gone. That only leaves one option and it is really, really, complicated. We need to sever your connection with the Elder Wand. Sounds simple, but is fairly hard to do."

"You want to disrupt my connection to the Elder Wand? Is that possible?", Harry interrupted.

"Maybe not as you think Harry. Stick with me a little bit more and I'm going to explain to you what I think. First let me explain what happens when a wand switches his allegiance. In fact, most wizards and witches think that it is the wand who makes the decision to belong to a new owner. That is mostly myth, built on what Ollivander always says. You remember his words of wisdom when he told us that the wand chooses the wizard?"

"Sure, who doesn't", replied Harry. "It is probably his trademark sentence and I heard it more often than most other wizards."

"True. But in fact that is a whole load of nonsense. Wands are nothing more than tools, some are better suited for specific wizards, some are worse. There is usually nothing like a consciousness in a wand. It is merely a combination of matching materials that suit a wizard to channel magic. In ancient times magical folk didn't use wands at all, they relied on their wandless ability. But my point is, that the user of a wand knows or thinks to know that his wand has switched allegiance. It's kind of psychological and it happens in our unconsciousness. You have been beaten so you think that your wand now belongs to someone else. And by thinking that you reject to use this wand anymore. Same goes for the winner of a duel. You win a duel and think that your enemies wand has been conquered and is now forced to work for you."

"But what about Voldemort?", Harry once again interrupted. "I beat him because his wand wouldn't work for him, so I was able to overpower him. Do you want to tell me, that there is a completely different reason? Sorry, but I can't believe this. I would never have been able to beat him in a regular duel and I know that it was the Elder Wand that decided this duel."

"And that is exactly the problem, the Elder Wand is not like most other wands. It has a history, a long and bloody history. And during the course of time it somehow seems to have developed what most other wands don't have – a consciousness. But that doesn't change the main fact – what we call 'allegiance' is merely a psychological construct in the users subconsciousness. And that is something that can be influenced even if it is really hard to do so. If we would be talking about an ordinary wand, I would suggest legilimency combined with a strong memory charm, but as we deal with the Elder Wand we need to be more subtle here. The solution is really simple if you know what to look for. You will need to go on a dream voyage to rid yourself of the Elder Wand."

"A dream voyage? Forgive me, but I have never heard of such a thing."

"In a nutshell, it means that you do advanced meditations and look into your inner self. It's a special magical technique that is mostly used on people that suffer under an post traumatic syndrome. During your dream voyage you have the option to influence your subconsciousness and to alter, change or delete passages from your life. For example, rape victims are often given the chance to erase all knowledge about the event during a dream voyage as a last resort. Look, memory charms are all nice and neat but they never influence your subconsciousness. So for something deeper you need a dream voyage."

"Daphne? May I ask where you know all these things from? I mean you sound as if you knew exactly every step, every detail about everything that it scares me a little bit. Don't be offended, but where the hell did you learn all that?"

"Good question Harry, really good. In fact, I expected it earlier. In fact, it's a combination of a pureblood upbringing, knowledge from ancient tomes only available to special circles and my inherent abilities as a wand maker. Add some educated guesses and a good portion of experience and you know why I can do what I can."

He smiled. "Of course." She really seemed to know what she was doing although he still doubted that the whole process would be as easy as she suggested. But what other choices did he have? Sure, he could still continue to live with the status quo, but that wasn't a solution either. He had been to American wand-makers, but their knowledge was even more limited than that of Ollivander. No, if he really wanted to get rid of the remnants of his past, he needed someone who was more adept in wand-lore than the average crafter and his choices were limited. His main problem with the whole situation was that Daphne had been in Slytherin and he had always doubted them. But on a somewhat more rational level he knew that this was only a stupid prejudice. Not all Slytherins were evil bastards, although he was sure that Ron would have told him otherwise. Was it really a good idea to trust the Greengrass girl with such an important task? But something told him that she was good at her job and that was by far no small feat. She only had a little bit more than a year of practical experience, but still had crafted a wand for McGonagall who wasn't your average witch but a transfigurations mistress. So, if his former head of house trusted her enough, he should do the same. But nevertheless, she was a bloody Slytherin.

"So, let's assume you are right, how do we continue from here?"

Daphne looked at him and knew partly what he had thought. It was brilliantly clear to her that he doubted her abilities, but could she blame him? There were so many things to consider if you were Harry bloody Potter, that it was no wonder that this guy really had issues with people who told him that something was straight and easy.

"Well Harry, first of all, I need to take another PEC test, you know the procedure, then..."

"What please?", he interrupted her. "What is a PEC test?"

"Potter, please. You have taken an PEC test already three times in your life, you should know by now what it is and how it works, so what we do is..."

This time it was Harry who raised his hand and signalled her to stop. "No, sorry. I have no bloody idea about this test as I have never had one before. So what are you talking about?"

"You have never taken a PEC? Do you want to kid me Potter? It's routinely done when a wizard or witch is born, when he or she attends Hogwarts for the first time and lastly when he reaches his magical adulthood at the age of seventeen."

"No idea, really not. It may be possible that my parents took me for this test when I was born, but for obvious reasons I never had the chance to ask them. And no, I didn't take this bloody test when I came to Hogwarts, and once again no, nobody performed this test when I celebrated my seventeenth birthday."

Daphne looked at Harry in shock. Was he speaking the truth? That was absolutely unbelievable! The saviour of the wizarding world had never taken an PEC before! Absolutely every magical kid in Great Britain took these tests to determine where their natural abilities were and how they had progressed during the last years. She decided that there was more to this story, but for her purpose that didn't matter at all. But she needed these results and so she had to explain to him what they were about.

"Look Potter, I have no idea why you never took your PEC, but that is a question only you can answer. I don't care really much", she said with her full 'ice-queen' voice. "Do you want me to explain what it is or do you simply want to perform it?

Harry was a little bit annoyed. How dare she talked to him like that? Was it his fault that nobody in the bloody wizarding world ever explained something to him? No, it surely wasn't.

"Tell me about it", he answered short handed.

Daphne decided that it was his money that he spent on her time and if he wanted to an explanation, he would get one. After all, he paid the bill.

"Okay, the PEC test is, as I said before, performed three times during a wizards life routinely and on special occasions. The 'P' stands for power, the 'E' for endurance and the 'C' for control. The PEC's general measurement is a scale from zero to seven, where zero means absolutely no ability and seven means an ability that is unmatched. Sevens are really rare and only happen once or twice during a century, so don't hope for a result like this. When a witch or a wizard is born, he usually has a power level of one, an endurance level of one and an control level of zero. That is reflected by doing accidental magic which shows that the magical being has no control over his inherent magic. These number usually grow until the eleventh birthday so that your average wizard enters Hogwarts with an power level of two, an endurance level of one and an control level of still zero. Now, a little bit more explanation for the different skills. Power is something you already have, it cannot be trained, it cannot be inbred like many purebloods think and it develops to a certain maximum that is usually reached by the age of seventeen, give or take one or two years. You cannot train power although some of the really dark rituals are capable of enhancing your power. But that is a topic for another time, believe me – you wouldn't want to participate in such a ritual. Endurance is in many regards likewise, as it also cannot be trained and is an somewhat inherent ability. Physical fitness and strength can help your endurance, if only slightly. You normally reach your maximum level of endurance during your twenties and from then on it slowly, but steadily declines. It is linked with age. Control is the last important parameter as it determines in how far you are able to control your magic. In contrast to power and endurance, it solely is based on training and discipline. Control also determines in how far you are able to do wandless magic. As it comes mostly from experience and training it slowly increases with age. So, an average wizard is usually born with a PEC rating of 1-1-0, enters a magical school with a rating of 2-1-0, comes of age with 3-3-3 and usually ends up dying at an age of 100 with an PEC rating of 3-1-4. Any questions so far?"

"Sounds pretty straightforward", he answered. "Are there any wizards this century that had sevens in one or more abilities?"

"Not that I know of", came her instant reply. "Dumbledore is known for his control level of six and many suppose that the Dark Lord had a power level of seven. But even sixes are an remarkable feat that most wizards and witches can only dream of. Even a five in one of the three aspects makes you extraordinary. Fours are highly unusual in power and endurance, but somewhat common in control with very old wizards. Your average wizard usually has a total rating around nine, with 3-3-3 being the most common."

"Sounds interesting, how do you perform the test?"

Daphne smiled at him. "Quite easy Harry. I have the PEC testing equipment here in my shop, it consists of a special pair of gauntlets, an amulet and headband. All you have to do is wear these items and I will start the measurement process. Do you want to do it now?"

"Sure, does it take long to perform the test?"

"Not really. Usually only two to three minutes. Wait a minute, I'm going to collect the items from my working room."

With that, she stood up and left for her working room where she took all necessary items from a shelf. Additionally, she picked up a pepper up potion and a mild calming draught before she went back into her shop's main room.

When she entered through the door and Harry saw her, his eyes became wide. The gauntlet she had brought was deep purple with neon-green spots, the amulet was a bright yellow and the headband looked like a multicoloured rainbow. He spent some seconds thinking how he would look like wearing this items and began to laugh.

Daphne saw his reactions and knew by heart what he thought. It was probably the same thing she had thought when her father took her for her own PEC test when she had become an adult. These things were simply embarrassing and everybody knew it.

"Yes, yes", she said, "I know theses thing look like carnival items or something the Weasleys would sell in their shop, but there is no way to change them." She put on a smile and deposited the gauntlet, the amulet and the headband on the table.

Harry was still laughing, but managed to choke some words: "These will really look great to my suit..."

And indeed, Daphne was sure that nothing else in the world would have looked more out of place on his suit than the PEC testing equipment. He had opted for something very conservative and was wearing a dark grey suit with white stripes, a royal blue shirt and a grey tie. Indeed, he looked really handsome but nevertheless it would be fun seeing him wear the curious equipment.

"Okay Harry, shall we start?"

"No time like the present", he grinned.

"Great, now wear the gauntlet on your wand-hand please."

He did as she had told him and instantly felt a strange buzzing along his arm. He asked Daphne about it, but she ensured him that this was perfectly normal. When she ordered him to take his wand into the gauntlet he did so and once again the buzzing increased.

"Now Harry, it is imperative that you don't move. In fact, don't do anything until I say so and presume that everything is normal until I say otherwise, okay?"

"Will it hurt?" He asked the question faster than he could think and instantly was sorry. Once again his vulnerable side had shown and that was something he didn't like at all.

"No, it won't hurt you Harry. Only hold still."

The young witch pressed her own wand against the gauntlet and it began to glow while the buzzing sound increased. Harry felt something strange inside him as if the gauntlet was channelling his magic. At first, it was only a curious feeling, then it became stronger and annoying and at last he wasn't able to feel his arm at all. It wasn't painful, but really distressing. Then it all stopped as fast as it had begun. The gauntlet fell from his hand onto the floor, but still the glow was there.

"Very fine, Harry", said Daphne and picked the gauntlet up. She held it under his nose and pointed her finger to the gems attached. "See these emeralds Harry?"

"Sure", he replied. "Although I have no idea why some of them seem to glow and the others look normal." He looked up to Daphne and saw that she wanted to reply, but he stopped her when he raised his hand. "I think I get it. Seven emeralds. Seven points for power on the PEC scale. Does that mean that the four glowing emeralds represent my power level?"

She grinned. "It's always a fifty-fifty chance Harry and in this case you lost your bet. Your power level is measured by the not-glowing emeralds and that means that you have indeed a level of three."

Harry was more than satisfied. He had expected to show a power level of five or more, marking him once again as someone extraordinary, but he was average. And being average was great in his books. Nothing to stand out, nothing that differentiated him from other witches or wizards. In fact, it was the best possible outcome he could imagine.

Daphne collected the gauntlet and put it back onto the table. "Do you want to drink something before we continue or do you feel fit enough for the next test?"

He opted for a short sip of coffee before he looked at her. "Will the amulet too do something strange like the gauntlet?"

"Yes. In fact, the endurance test is somewhat painful. It tests your ability to hold onto your magic and in how far you are able to tolerate magical pain and exhaustion. I'm sorry Harry, really. If I could, I would take away the pain, but there is no alternative available."

Harry looked into her eyes and he saw the pain there. He knew for certain that she didn't wish to harm him, but that there was no way for her to ease the pain that would come along with this special part of the PEC testing. He was somewhat thankful that she showed so much compassion and that she didn't pity him. Did she care for him? Or was this some act she always played when she performed the test for a customer? Probably the later, he decided. Why would someone like Daphne care for him, for plain old Harry? He decided to put these thoughts away for another time as he was only stalling the inevitable.

"Give me the amulet", he said firmly. And without a word she leaned forward and put it around his neck. He felt her closing the clasp and at the same time he caught himself glancing at Daphne's wide open cleavage. Her working robes were wide and he had a good look at her tiny, lacy white bra. He could even see that her nipples were of dark brown colour that stood in stark contrast to her alabaster skin. Instantly something inside him reacted and it took every ounce of willpower not to blush or even worse, get an instant erection.

Daphne of course was well aware of the situation. In fact, she hadn't planned this, but knew that he could take a look at her the moment she bent forward. But what do you do in such a compromising situation? Simply, she acted as if she hadn't noticed and continued her work. "Worst case?", she thought. "He saw my tits. But that shouldn't be his first time seeing naked parts of a female. And if we both continue acting as if nothing had happened nobody will speak a word about it. Best case? He closed his eyes the moment he saw my wide fluttering robes. Oh hell, forget it Daphne – he's a man, of course he took a peek!"

But both young people kept acting as if nothing had happened even if they knew better. Daphne returned to a normal standing position and asked him if he was ready.

"Of course I am. Start the measuring", was his short answer because he didn't trust himself enough at the moment for a longer or more elaborate statement. And that was what she did.

At the first moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then he felt as if he was pressed and someone would throw him through a very compressed tube. The feeling continued and even worse, it felt as if someone would put very heavy bricks onto his head. His occlumency shields barely held, but he knew that if the feeling would further increase, his shields wouldn't hold. And of course the feeling got worse, it even began to become a little bit painful. His hands felt as if they were on fire as did his feet. All air seemed to be pressed out of his lungs, his stomach was compressed to a tiny little ball and he felt the strong urge to puke.

Daphne watched him and she disliked what she saw. Exactly as on the gauntlet, the amulet had seven small gems, rubies in this case and they were blinking like mad. To be more exactly, three of the rubies had stopped glowing practically the moment she had started the process. The fourth went out seconds later and now only the numbers five, six and seven were glowing. She knew from books that an endurance level of four meant the ability to suffer extreme pain, but from what she saw she somehow doubted that level four was the final result. And she was right. Just the moment she thought that, the fifth ruby stopped emanating a glow and only the last two were active. "Wow", she thought, thinking of the pain he probably just endured. Measuring the endurance was always a difficult process because the equipment looked how long someone could hold his magic. So the amulet forced Harry's magic forward while putting more and more pressure on him. And "pressure" was the synonym for pain if it came to levels beyond three.

Meanwhile Harry used every ounce of willpower to resist the pain that forced it's way through his body. He was definitely not going to surrender to some kind of shiny amulet when he had endured the pain of Voldemorts Cruciatus curse and worse. He was not going to surrender to some kind of evil artefact when he could hold his magic long enough to banish dozens of dementors. And he was surely not surrendering to this bloody PEC test when he had suffered more than anyone he knew. His whole life had been a fight, maybe except for the last three years in America and this was only another battle that he would win. In the meantime the pain had become nearly unbearable and now matched the Dark Lord's personal Cruciatus curse. He felt a strange memory of a certain graveyard coming forward, but nevertheless fought against. He tried to suppress the memory, but his occlumency was not much help as his shields had already been battered and destroyed. The pain seemed endless. Tears flowed freely. Memory after memory came into his mind and he didn't like what he saw. Dementors. The basilisk. The Dursleys. Voldemort. The Hungarian horntail. Remus dead. Sirius gone. Voldemort again.

If someone had told Daphne what would happen on this morning she would have declared him being crazy or insane. And she would have avoided the PEC testing for Harry, no matter what. For more than two minutes the light in the sixth ruby had been flickering and she had no idea what he had to endure. His lips were pressed together and she knew that he was avoiding the inevitable cry. His fingernails were pressed into his hands and although they were neatly cut some blood was visible on his palms. His whole body was emanating magic and her shop was bathed into a golden light. He seemed to be sweating magic, but she was sure that the end was near. No matter how high Harry's endurance level was, nobody could or should suffer for so long. And she was right.

When the sixth ruby stopped glowing it came what had to come. Harry screamed. It was not only a scream, but the primal sound of someone relieving all his pain. It was unreal and so loud that Daphne had to hold her ears closed. Even worse, the young man in front of her began to whimper and his tears flowed freely. Then it was all over in a jiffy. One last scream from Harry made her nearly deaf, but it also marked the end of his pain. The amulet glowed one last time and all rubies fell off instantly. Harry Potter had achieved an endurance level of seven, something totally unheard of.

He had his hands attached to his eyes and cried like a newborn child. Daphne never had a customer before that had to endure so long under the pain of the amulet and normally she would have simply waited for him to calm down, but somehow she knew that this wasn't good enough in this special situation. Reluctantly she took Harry into her arms and pressed him against her chest. The very same chest he had taken a look at some minutes earlier. She held him like a mother and rocked him for some minutes until she noticed that he had stopped crying. But he was still shaking and so she decided not to let go. They sat there for minutes until Harry managed to calm himself enough to free himself from Daphnes embrace. He reached into his pockets and drew a package of hankies. With some difficulties he managed to take one out and wipe his face clean of the tears. Then he did the same for the blood on his hands, all the time thinking how good it had felt to be embraced by Daphne. Using this positive emotion he closed his eyes again and re-erected his mental shields. Once that was done he looked up to Daphne.

"Thanks Daphne, for holding me. I would never have expected that this part of the test would be so painful. It was horrible, I have to admit. Worse than everything I ever experienced. Care to tell me what the result is?"

Daphne looked into his once again sparkling green orbs and hesitated. "Harry", she began, "let me tell you first that I had no idea how painful this test would be for you and let me say that I'm really sorry for submitting you to this kind of torture." She turned around and faced the table where the potions were standing. She took the calming draught and gave it to him. "Drink this first, then I'll give you the pepper-up potion and once you've finished both we can talk about your result, okay?"

"Fine with me", he answered silently already expecting a test result that was far from the norm. He took the first potion and downed it instantly before finishing the second one with exactly the same speed. "Thanks heaven", he thought when both potions worked as they were supposed to be and he felt much better.

"Everything okay, Harry?", Daphne adressed him.

"Yes. So tell me – how embarrassing is the test result?"

"It is extraordinary, not embarrassing. You achieved a seven. Full marks, Harry. Very impressive, if you ask me."

"A seven?", he asked with his eyes wide open expressing disbelieve. "A bloody seven?"

"Yes Harry. A bloody seven. You just achieved a score totally unheard of." Seeing his look of disgust, she hurried to placate him. She placed the palms of her hands on his thighs and looked directly into his eyes. "Harry, you are extraordinary, there is nothing wrong with this. And if it eases you, I'll never speak with anybody about your result. Would that be okay for you?"

"That would indeed be fine, Daphne. Once again – thanks a lot."

"No problem, mister super-endurance", she smiled. "In fact I had already suspected that your endurance level would be very high according to the things you have done in your life and the things you had to endure. I hope that I may point out that I admire you for such a talent."

"Oh yeah – being able to tolerate lots of pain is surely something one can admire", he answered with an sarcastic voice.

"See it from the other side Harry. The endurance test is primarily not about pain. That is only part of the test. It's about magical stamina and the ability to let magic flow. I heard the rumours in our third year that you held a patronus charm long enough to drive dozens of dementors away, but I always thought that this was purely exaggeration. Now I know that it wasn't. And wouldn't you agree with me that driving lots of these evil creatures away is a good thing?"

"Well, if you see it like this, you're right of course. Okay, my magical stamina is great, so what is the last part of the test?"

Daphne gladly changed the topic away from his super-endurance onto the next test on her agenda. She freed him from the medallion and put it away together with the discarded rubies. Then, reaching towards the table, she took the headband she had brought earlier.

"This test is quite easy Harry. This small little tool will measure your control level. It is totally pain-free and the only thing you will experience is a little bit of legilimency from the headband. Nothing to worry about, really."

"If you say so", he smiled. "At least I don't have to cry again. "Hey, you know that the ladies don't like crying men, so with your knowledge you could easily spoil my future love life", he grinned.

The answer was definitely not what he had anticipated. "In this case you're wrong Harry. But don't worry, most males are. Crying men only show that they are capable of showing emotions, that they are able to have an outlet for their pains. These men are exactly what lots of women are looking for. Me included." Now it was Daphne who had a twinkle in her eyes that would have made Dumbledore jealous.

"Are you serious?", he asked her in a non-nonsense tone.

"Yes, totally. Take that as a bonus-tip that won't be included in your invoice", she sarcastically said. "Now onto the last part of the PEC."

She put the tiara like headband onto Harrys head and without further addo she put the tip of her wand to it. This time things were over in a matter of seconds. Harry felt as if some invisible fingers were rifling through his mind. It was nothing like the legilimency Snape had done to him during their fifth year, on the contrary. It felt as if these invisible fingers were tickling his brain and he couldn't suppress giggling. Pictures were brought forward of his first lessons in magic during his Hogwarts years, of him learning from books he had received from Remus during his third year, from him trying out new spells during their camping tour through England and from him learning new magic during his three years at Stanford.

It was a matter of half a minute before three gemstones dropped to the floor and the experience stopped. Harry looked towards the discarded gems and sighed.

"At least two out of three are average. Not bad, if you ask me", he adressed Daphne.

Smiling and inwardly cringing she collected the headband and thought about this strange guy in front of her. He really appreciated being average! Each and every single Slytherin would have given one or two limbs to score a PEC rating as high as Harry had! But probably things were really different if you were Harry Potter and people always expected the unexpected from you. What had her mother, being a Ravenclaw herself, always said? "Never judge people before you know them." This had been a wise piece of advise and she remembered herself that the man before her was probably the prototype of someone who couldn't be judged by outer appearances and hearsay.

Unceremoniously Daphne put the gauntlet, the medallion and the headband back onto the table and sat down on her previously discarded chair. She viewed her counterpart on the other side of the table and decided to wait a little bit until she would let her final bomb for the day explode.

"Now Harry, with your PEC ratings fixed I can determine the process for the next days. For today", she cast a fast _Tempus_ spell, "we are done. But I will see you tomorrow morning sharp at nine o'clock. Listen carefully to me now. It is absolutely imperative that you don't do any magic beginning this evening until you are at my shop tomorrow morning. Is that clear?"

"Ohm, sure Daphne. But why?"

"Because I have a good suspicion in which direction some of the materials for your wand core are going. And if I'm right – what usually is the case – I need your magic at top level, clear and untainted by any use of spells. If you are a animagus you won't use the ability in the same time frame. Just in case you are a practising occlumens or legilimens – don't use either abilities. If you possess any wandless abilities, once again – don't use them. Don't take any potions, don't use the floo network, don't apparate. In short – avoid anything that has to do with magic. And just to be sure don't drink anything that has magical components like gilly water or firefish tears. Understood?"

"What are you? My doctor?", he smiled at her.

"Something like that. Believe me, it is important to let your body build up it's own magic. And as far as I remember you were raised by muggles, so it shouldn't be too hard to rely on non-magical means for some hours."

"Okay, so I will see you tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, right?"

She smiled evilly, every inch of her being a nasty Slytherin. "No Potter, you will see me this evening. You will organize a car and then you will pick me up here at my shop at half past nine. Then you will invite me into a high class restaurant of your choice where you will treat me with the utmost respect a pureblood lady deserves. Then, you will invite me to a luxurious, hellish expensive five-course menu and during our dinner you'll entertain me with your best manners."

Harry was speechless. There were a thousands things running through his mind, but that she would FORCE him to invite her to dinner was the one thing that he would have never dreamt of. Well, not that he was antipathetic to the idea, but he wondered why now, all of a sudden, she came up with such a curious idea. He did the only reasonable thing and asked her directly. The answer he received was nothing he had expected.

"Simple, Potter. It's either that or I'll hex your balls with the most mean curse from the dark arts if you ever take a peep at my boobs again."

a/n: Thanks for all the reviews! Jiw123: these are exactly the things I can only guess about. I was tempted to use the Times but opted against it as it looked to stereotype. Thanks for the information :) Dinomus: Good questions, but I would offer too much information if I would give answers right now. So I apologize and refer to future chapters. Next chapter will take a while now as I won't have time during the next days to write. For all football fans: Two days until Manchester United vs Schalke 04. Let's hope for a more enthralling game than the last ;)


End file.
